


The Rise and Fall of Jensen Ackles and the Spiders From Mars

by etoile_etiolee



Series: Rise and Fall [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Graphic Depictions of Illness, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sick Jensen, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-10-09
Packaged: 2017-12-28 22:23:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 75,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/997623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etoile_etiolee/pseuds/etoile_etiolee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a teenager, Jensen's life is turned upside down when he suddenly develops epilepsy. After years of struggling, he leaves his family and friends behind to start a new life in a new town where he won't be reminded on a daily basis of everything he's lost. His budding romance with the sweet guy he meets at the coffee shop may be just the new beginning he needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Space Oddity

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: None of this is true
> 
> Thanks to disneymagics for the incredible beta work.
> 
> Title is from a David Bowie album, chapter titles are song title from the same artist. I freaking love the man ;-)

_Prologue: Space Oddity_

He looks at his face in the mirror and smiles. The red and blue lightning strike is perfect.

“What do you think?” Melissa asks, standing behind him. 

“That’s great,” he says sincerely, raising his hand to his face.

“Don’t! Still drying.”

“Sorry.”

They smile at each other’s reflection. 

“Can’t believe you really did it,” Mel says, brushing her fingers lightly over Jensen’s red, spiky hair.

“Momma’s gonna kill me.”

“Maybe, but it’s totally worth it.”

“Yeah, right?”

Christian storms into the dressing room and opens his mouth when he sees Jensen, gasping like a fish outside of water. “Man, you look so cool,” he states, patting him on the back.

_Yes, I think_ … The words refuse to leave his mouth. Jensen stills and looks at himself more intently. Something shifts, like the whole world suddenly tilts and it’s like he’s separating from the man reflected back at him from the mirror.

Stress, Jensen thinks. He hears Christian and Melissa talking behind him, but can’t make out what they’re saying. The voices sound distorted, like they do when you’re under water.

_Come on, man, shake it off._

“Waiting for you in five minutes for the mic test,” Christian says before leaving the room.

“Okay,”

There. Everything is all right. Everything is good. It’s just stage fright, that’s all it is.

“You okay?” Melissa asks, frowning in concern.

Jensen gets up. His legs feel numb. Nervousness, he thinks stubbornly, tugging at his lip ring with his teeth.

“Think I’m gonna get some air,” he tells Mel.

“Want me to go with you?”  
“No, m’alright.”

He takes the emergency exit and blinks furiously under the bright sun. He fetches his cigarettes from his pocket and leans against the brick wall, under the awning for the stairs. 

The first acrid cigarette puff burns his throat and he coughs. 

Okay, Alright.

He starts to relax, inhales a long and deep breath of smoke. _You’re alright, Jensen_.

His fingers start to fiddle on his thigh, playing the first notes of Space Oddity. That’s their opening song, and Jensen’s gonna be in front of the stage, the only one under the spotlight. All eyes on him. Each and every single one of them.

Jensen clears his throat and hums. Water. He’s gonna need to drink before they start. 

In front of his eyes, a sudden burst of light explodes and he shakes his head until his vision clears. His palms are damp with sweat. His back is too. He can feel his tight black tee sticking to his skin. Jensen’s scared. Something feels very wrong and he’s overwhelmed by a sense of panic so sudden and acute he’s afraid he’s gonna pass out.

_Stop it, Jensen, get yourself together. Nothing’s wrong with you. The doctor told you so. Freaking puberty hormones and anxiety. That’s what it is._

He raises a shaking hand to inhale another puff of smoke and realises his cigarette has burned down to the filter, which is impossible, since he barely just lit it. It’s like…

“Jense? Fuck, there you are. Come on, man! We start in five.”

Jason drags him back inside. _Wait_ , Jensen wants to say. He’s gonna say it, any minute now.

Ground control to Major Tom.

He’s sitting on the bench, getting his guitar strap on. There’s a faint light coming from the ceiling. Christian swears at something. Jensen turns his head. What is he doing here? There’re on stage. He was outside smoking a cigarette, wasn’t he?

“Ground control to Major Tom?” He hears from his left. Turns his head again. There’s Steve, smiling at him, ready to start playing. It’s a joke. A running gag between them. And he’s supposed to answer…

“This is Major Tom to ground control,” Jensen answers. And yeah, that’s what he’s supposed to say. He’s so relieved he could cry. But then a very strong smell invades his nostrils, making them twitch. It’s smoke, barbecue smoke, just like when his dad is getting the charcoal ready to cook. 

People scream. “Spi-ders! Spi-ders! Spi-ders!” People are cheering for them, because the show’s about to begin and Jensen’s supposed to start playing. Ground control to Major Tom.

“Come on, guys!” Christian roars.

“And me, dumbass,” Mel adds, and she’s supposed to say that, and everybody laughs, and the curtain starts to lift. 

Why doesn’t anybody notice the smell? It’s so heavy in the air Jensen has the feeling he’s gonna choke, but he can’t, because he has to start playing. He tells his fingers that, but they won’t move.

The auditorium is full. People clapping, screaming, whistling. Now, it’s now.

“Jensen, come on!” Christian snarls.

But he can’t. The circuit’s dead there’s something wrong. Can’t you hear? Can’t you smell?

Everything freezes. And Jensen’s head slowly starts floating, separating from his body. It’s freaking scary.

There’s a yell. And then he feels something pulling his eyes up, trying to roll them back into their sockets.

No one’s home, he thinks.


	2. Strangers When we Meet

Downtown York, at the corner of Main and Peach Street, there’s a small coffee shop called Cambio Café. Every Saturday morning, Jared spends a couple of hours there.

He had always liked the place and had worked there part-time from the age of 18 until he obtained his bachelor degree. Four and a half years of working at the same place and Jared feels at home there. Jared isn’t really a creature of habit, but he is a people person. And after he got his job at the community center, he couldn’t just let go of this important part of his life. Plus, his best friend, Misha, runs the place now, having taken over from his parents a couple of years ago.

Jared likes to wake up early on the weekends. He always feels like there aren’t enough hours in the day to do everything he wants, everything he’d like. On Saturdays, after his jogging, he takes a quick shower and takes off to the café, buying a couple newspapers along the way. He’s settled at his usual table, near the counter where he can talk with the employees, around seven, drinking a giant mocachino and eating Danish pastries while reading the papers. Misha usually comes in at nine, and they talk for an hour or so before Jared leaves to get on with the rest of his day.

That’s the only true routine in his life. That’s also how he got to know Jensen Ackles in the first place.

::: :::

It all started in July. At that time, Jared’s relationship with his boyfriend had already begun going downhill. Jared had actually been there when Jensen entered the coffee shop for the first time, looking carefully around him before settling at a quiet table in the back. It had been nine in the morning. The guy had his laptop with him and had still been working on it when Jared left. What he’d felt that first time couldn’t be described as anything other than the biggest crush of his entire life. He’d actually been weak at the knees, looking at the quiet and thoughtful man bent over his computer, his fingers running quickly over the keyboard, eyes so green under his dark lashes, biting at his lower, plump lip distractedly. He’d been wearing a Velvet Underground tight t-shirt at the time, and Jared could see the modest width of his shoulders. The guy had been slim –maybe even thin, but still, he had toned, well-defined muscles. He’d been handsome enough to be modeling, and he had this very elegant walk, almost feline, even with his bow-legs.

Jared had been gone from that first glimpse. 

Of course, nothing had happened that day, or the next Saturday, when Jensen entered the coffee shop at nine and went straight for his table in the back. Jared had sipped his mocha dreamily while looking at him for almost two hours straight. At eleven o’clock precisely, Jensen had left, and Jared had realized he didn’t feel like going home. Not anymore.

Then, David broke up with Jared and he could concentrate on Jensen completely.

The break-up had been hard. They’d been together for almost two years and Jared had moved in with David more than a year ago. He still wasn’t sure about the exact reasons for the break up. David had been very gentle with him, explaining that he sometimes felt like Jared was sucking his air right from his lungs, that he often felt crushed by his presence, like he was choking. Misha had listen to Jared’s interpretation and had put other words to it. "You're like a gigantic and very friendly octopus. That talks too much. Smiles too much, likes everybody and everything too much.” At that point, Jared had asked him to shut up, but he knew Misha was right. His mother had once said to him, while smiling almost sadly, "You're like… too much for one human being. Too much energy and presence. Sometimes people need their space, baby. You can be overwhelming." 

So, yeah. Jared had apparently been just “too much” for David. Since the apartment was his, Jared had to move back with his parents. At twenty-four years old. Had to let his mother pamper him and bake him so much food he’d sometimes felt sick just seeing her opening her cook book. Still, it hadn’t hurt as much as Jared had thought it would, so maybe their break-up had been for the best.

In the meantime, he could get lost in watching Jensen Ackles from his own table, swearing to himself that he wouldn’t rush into the next relationship and would take everything slowly. 

He had gathered some information about the gorgeous green-eyed guy over the weeks. He only came on Saturdays, always from nine to eleven, and ordered a latte. Never ate anything. Jared had learned Jensen’s name at the end of August, when Violet, one of the baristas, had read it on the man’s credit card and had run excitedly to Jared soon after to give him the good news.

_Jensen Ackles._ Who was a fan of British pop and rock from the sixties and seventies, judging by the t-shirts he wore. Who sometimes needed glasses –delicate, oval-shaped glasses, with a thin metal rim- that made him look like a nerd in the most adorable way. Who was probably a student or a writer of some sort, given the big grammar book he sometimes carried with him. He looked about Jared’s age, couldn’t be more than twenty-five. He sometimes wore his i-pod earphones and beat the rhythm with his hands on the table, or sang silently with whatever song he was listening to, but never for long, like he wasn’t conscious of doing it and stopped himself as soon as he realized it.

That was the thing. Jared was pretty good at reading people, but he couldn’t really figure out if Jensen Ackles was shy or just withdrawn, reserved. And his previous experience with David had kind of freaked him out a bit. Was he that overwhelming, that too much? Which was why, even if he was ready to sit at Jensen’s table and start a conversation on week three, he’d waited. For something. He hadn’t even known if the guy was gay –although he thought so, but that could be pretty suggestive. Jared had sworn to himself he wouldn’t scare him off.

Jared had started with smiles, to which Jensen had answered with soft, quick ones, as they were both obviously regular customers of the coffee shop. Come September, he hadn’t even had to smile at first. Jensen would see him and smile spontaneously, sometimes even adding a small wave of his hand. Then, mid-September, Jared had used an old tactic, bumping lightly against Jensen’s chair when he pretended to head for the bathroom. They had their first conversation right then. 

“Sorry, man. Didn’t watch where I was going.”

“It’s okay”, Jensen had replied with his low voice, smiling at him.

Jared had held out his hand. “I’m Jared, by the way.” Jensen had shaken it, whispered his own name, then turned back to his computer. Out of shyness or as a way to show he just preferred to be left alone, Jared couldn’t really say.

Things were looking up, really. Then came September twenty-eight.

:::

It’s one of those cold and humid Maine autumn mornings. Dark clouds run across the sky, the cold wind seems to blow through him, no matter how warmly he’s dressed. Jared likes to jog on these mornings, feels more alive than ever, breathing deep and fast, muscles aching, a strange mix of heat and cold running over his skin. He gets to the Cambio Café at his usual hour, surprised but pleased to find Misha already there, making a cappuccino for his only client. He smiles grimly at Jared over the machine, a sign that he’s not there of his own will: one of the employee must have called in sick.

“The usual,” Jared says while passing in front of him, to which Misha mumbles “Fuck you, Padalecki,” before going back to work.

Jared settles in at a table with a paper and hums while reading the sports page. He’s planning to ask Jensen if he wants to sit with him, so they can drink their coffee together (yes, it’s kind of stupid, but Jared doubts himself so much since his break-up he can’t come up with anything better). Misha had made him swear he would try it, saying that he couldn’t bear to listen to another word about Jensen or he would go mad. “Is this about the octopus thing? Because Jare, I said _friendly_ octopus, not bad octopus, not run-for-your-life octopus. Stop overthinking it and go for it.”

“Shut up. I just don’t want to scare him off. Besides, I don’t even know if he’s gay.”

“By the way he looks at you, if he’s not gay then I’m the Queen of England.”

“I’ll talk to him next week, your majesty.”

The thing is, Jensen doesn’t come in at nine, or even nine ten. He’s always there at nine. Jared is sure he won’t come at all, feeling suddenly as grey and gloomy as the weather outside. Maybe he will never come back, maybe the way Jared bumped into his chair “by accident” scared him off for life.

Jared is drowning his sorrow in another cup of mocha while Misha feeds him free pastries when Jensen finally comes in. It’s almost nine thirty then, and when his friend elbows him and nods toward the entrance, Jared is so ridiculously relieved he begins to stand up, saved from humiliation just in time by Misha who pushes him down without much subtlety.

“Oh,” Misha says, frowning.

“What?”

“He doesn’t look well.”

It’s true. Jensen barely smiles at Jared while walking past him. His face is a pasty white, except for red blotches on his cheeks and dark circles under his eyes. As he settles in at his table, he muffles a long coughing spell in the crook of his elbow until he’s panting. He slowly removes his jacket but doesn’t pull the knitted scarf from around his throat.

“He’s sick,” Jared whispers.

“Nice guess, Sherlock,” Misha replies.

“Now I can’t ask him out today.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s sick.”

“Well, he’s not dying.”

Jared huffs impatiently. “Not the ideal circumstances. I’ll have to wait ‘till next week.”

Misha rolls his eyes and leaves him be. There’s a line gathering at the counter and Rose, a new employee, seems terrified, as if all the customers are ready to eat her alive. Jared glances once more at Jensen who is now blowing his nose as discreetly as possible. Yeah. Nothing would happen that morning. He wonders why the poor guy hadn’t stayed home, what was so important he had to be at the coffee shop even when he was so clearly miserable. When Misha comes to his table to take his order, Jensen’s voice is hoarse and raw enough to have Jared wincing in sympathy.

Jensen doesn’t stay long. He keeps blinking at his computer screen without doing anything, like he’s ready to fall asleep on it. He drinks his coffee, holding it in both hands as if he wants to warm himself up, then starts to pack his things. He looks at Jared for a long time while putting on his jacket with an expression Jared can’t quite define. He answers it by smiling as gently as he can, but all Jensen does is frown in return before leaving the café at a slow pace. Jared sighs and gets himself ready to leave as well. He waves at Misha and steps outside just as a low, thundering sound rolls from a distance and heavy, cold rain starts to fall. Jared’s car is nearby but he’s already pretty wet by the time he reaches it. He cranks the heater up as he gets on the road and shivers, thinking, for once, that it might be nice to get back in bed and take a nap when he gets home. He drives slowly through the sudden flood and muffles a grunt of surprise when he sees a familiar silhouette down the street, walking under the rain bent forward, his computer case pressed against his chest.

The poor guy must be drenched. Jared slows down and drives to the side of the road, pressing the horn to get Jensen’s attention. 

The young man turns his head towards him. His hair is plastered against his head, his face covered in water rivulets. His teeth are chattering so hard Jared can see it from his car. He lowers his window.

“Oh. Jared, right?” Jensen says, shifting on his feet.

“Hop in, Jensen. I’ll give you a ride.”

Jared stretches forward to open the passenger door. He can see the uneasiness on Jensen’s face. He would probably like to refuse but knows he really can’t. He’s so miserable Jared kind of wants to wrap him in a towel and pet him. The thought itself fills him with desire and shame.

“I’m gonna get your seat wet,” Jensen finally says, biting his lower lip before breaking into a coughing spell.

“Come on, don’t be stupid. You’re gonna catch your death out there.”

Jensen climbs in the car and shuts the door. His teeth keep chattering and soon his whole body is shaking as well. “Thanks,” he rasps without looking at Jared.

“Where to?”

“Not very far. Take a left at the next traffic light. I live on Pine Drive, near Cape Neddick. It’s about two kilometers away. ”

 

“Yeah, I know where that is.”

“Okay.”

Jensen starts coughing again and Jared glances at him while getting back on the road. He visibly tries to muffle it into the crook of his elbow but his whole body is tensed and he’s bending forward with the force of it.

“You alright?” He can’t help but ask when Jensen finally takes a shuddering breath, his face beet red.

“Yeah. Sorry. S’just a cold.”

The traffic light is red. Jared taps on the wheel, trying to give the poor guy some space, but silence makes him uncomfortable. 

“So… Your accent? Are you from Texas?”

“Yeah. Richardson. Moved here five months ago.”

“I’m from Texas too. My parents moved here when I was six years old.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t really remember it, though. I know my father still misses it. Do you?”

“The… the light is green,” Jensen stutters, arms wrapped around himself in a vain attempt to warm himself.

“Yeah. Right. Did you moved here alone or is there…?”

_Nice, Jared. Very smooth. He doesn’t care. He’s sick as a dog. Why can’t you just shut up?”_

“No, m’alone,” Jensen answers in a tired voice. He’s then shaken by an impressive sneezing fit that he can barely contain in a single Kleenex fetched from his jacket’s pocket just in time.

“Whoa. Bless you.”

“Sorry,” Jensen mumbles, looking so awkward and embarrassed Jared feels sorry for him.

“I have tissues in the glove compartment.”

“Thanks.”

“That’s some cold you’ve got.”

Jensen doesn’t answer, too preoccupied by blowing his nose as silently as he can.

“Pine Street,” Jared calls, turning on the long, quiet road. It’s a residential street, most of the buildings are small brick apartments surrounded by… pine trees, of course. It’s really at the foot of the cape. The view is great.

“What number?”

“Huh… 46A. It’s near the end.” Jensen slurs, and Jared glances back at him. He looks like he’s about to fall asleep, one hand wrapped around a bunch of crumpled Kleenex like some kind of Teddy bear, the other rubbing at his eyes.

Jared slows the car down, getting closer to number forty-six. The apartment building is a two-story brick house with two independent entries on each floor. The two staircases leading to the second floor look narrow and rusty. Jared is somewhat grateful to see that number 46a is on the ground floor. His passenger really doesn’t look well, and having him passing out in his car or worse, in the rusty stairwell. That would be awkward. 

“Do you… do you smell that?” Jensen asks suddenly.

“What?” Jared parks the car on the side of the road in front of the two story apartment. He doesn’t say that he’s surprised Jensen can smell anything at all, if he is as congested as he sounds. 

“You don’t smell something like barbecue smoke?”

“No.”

Jensen’s face has shifted from red to a greenish white in record time. “Shit,” he whispers. “Th-thanks for the ride. Gotta go.”

“You sure you o-”

But Jensen is already out of the car, walking through the rain to his door on wobbly legs. Like he’s suddenly drunk.

Jared doesn’t like this. At all. The idea of Jensen passing out suddenly doesn’t seem that farfetched, and he wonders if he should get out of the car, make sure the guy is alright. Yeah. Cause that would go well with the whole don’t-scare-him-off idea. Jensen can’t even cough in front of him without blushing.

He’s at his front door, fumbling with the key, when Jared realizes that he has left his laptop case on the seat. Grabbing it, he exits his car and runs up to the building, calling, “Hey! Jensen! You forgot your laptop!”

The man has just entered his apartment, leaving the door open. When Jared finally joins him, he gasps in surprise and drops the case on the floor.

_Shit_ , he thinks. _Shit shit shit shit shit._

Jensen is half-sitting, half-lying against the wall. He hasn’t pulled off his coat or shoes. His eyes are doing strange things, keep rolling up in their sockets and then coming back.

“Hey, man. What’s the matter? Are you alright?”

Jared crouches in front of him and takes him gently by the shoulders, trying to sit him up, but Jensen is a dead weight. 

“What’s wrong? Do you need an ambulance? Can you hear me, Jensen?” Jared asks in a slightly hysterical voice.

Jensen finally seems to acknowledge his presence. He looks at him and opens his mouth, lips moving silently. A groan is the only thing he manages to get out, but he raises his left arm in front of him, like he wants Jared to look at something.

And Jared suddenly remembers having seen a thin metal bracelet, shinning under the coffee shop's lights. He hadn’t realized at the time that it looked like one of those medical alert bracelets some people with chronic diseases or serious allergies sometimes wear.

Jared had his first aid training last year –it’s part of the bachelor’s degree in social work. He focuses on what he has to do and takes Jensen’s wrist in his hands, lifting the cloth layers to have a look at his bracelet. Jensen sighs somewhat gratefully as Jared sees the word engraved next the small red cadeus symbol : epilepsy.

Epilepsy.

Okay, what does Jared knows about epilepsy? Not much. Lay the person carefully on his left side. Remove furniture and stuff that could hurt him and never, ever try to put something in his mouth. And call an ambulance.

“It’s okay, Jensen,” Jared says, already pulling his phone from his pocket. “You’re gonna have a seizure, aren’t you?”

Jensen tries to talk again, but whatever control he seems to have over himself vanishes suddenly. His eyes close and his whole body tenses, back bowing against the wall. Jared tries to lay him on the floor while calling 9-1-1. He can’t turn him on his side - his muscles are too tense, but the way his neck is strained, the pressure on the back of his head against the ceramic tile floor must be hurting. Jared lets go of his phone and grabs a hoodie crumpled on a chair nearby, sliding it behind Jensen’s head. He’s not shaking, not seizing like people in films. He’s somewhat locked into this strange position, his fingers tightened like claws, his feet pointing in front of him like a ballerina’s. There’s a small rivulet of blood gliding down his clenched jaws. His eyes are still closed tight. 

Jared feels his heartbeat accelerating. He’s sweating profusely –although this is somewhat normal for him- and his cell keeps sliding in his hand. He finally dials the number and waits for an answer.

His conversation with the 9-1-1 operator is like a blur. He gives some information, listens to what the calm woman on the other end of the line has to say while kneeling next to Jensen, one hand gently pressed against his stomach. He thinks the operator is asking him if Jensen’s airways are clear when the man’s body seems to finally relax. Jared feels a weight lift off his chest, not for long though because Jensen starts shaking then. All of him. His eyes open and roll to the back of his head. Pink tinted saliva escapes his clenched teeth. The small tremors wracking his body are getting stronger and more intense. Jared is kind of yelling in the phone, now. “He’s seizing! Can you hurry up?”

“Listen to me, sir. I know it looks scary but you have to keep calm.”

“Yeah… Yeah, okay.”

Jared listens to the instructions given by the woman, which are, basically, the ones he remembers from his first aid class. Nothing is in the way for Jensen to hurt himself and Jared can even turn him to his left side. Jensen has started to make a low, grunting noise deep in his throat. The seizure shows no sign of slowing down. It’s still going on when the 9-1-1 operator tells him that the ambulance is already on the way and to keep watching Jensen. Jared hangs up and sits on the floor. The front door is still open and rain falls inside, carried by the wind. 

Time seems to distort completely. Jared doesn’t know if Jensen had been shaking for two minutes or two hours, but finally, the convulsions start to fade. It’s really progressive: they go from big, jerking movements to small tremors before stopping completely. Jensen lets out a long, shuddering sigh, a new trickle of saliva dropping from his chin. Then, his eyes close and his body relaxes, like he’s falling asleep. His breathing slows down, sounding almost like long snores. Jared slowly strokes his shoulder, feeling the adrenaline rush fading from his body. The street is quiet. He keeps looking, attentive to every noise outside that would indicate the ambulance’s arrival. 

Jensen blinks. Once, twice. His eyes are unfocussed, and it’s like he has to work hard to keep them from rolling back into his head. He opens his mouth and coughs softly.

“Hey, Jensen. It’s okay. You just had a seizure. Ambulance is on the way.” Jared whispers, so freaking relieved to see him coming back to himself he has to contain a nervous laugh.

Jensen doesn’t seem to understand. He tries to raise his head without success. The unfocussed glaze in his eyes is slowly giving way to panic. Jared puts his hand back on the man’s chest. “Don’t move, okay? Everything’s gonna be alright.”

The ambulance’s siren breaks the quiet of the street at that moment. 

The two paramedics take the matters into their own hands, and Jared stands a few feet away to give them space, answering their questions the best he can. Jensen seems to fight sleep and exhaustion. He’s confused, tries to resist the paramedics and cannot answer their questions any other way than by grunting and moaning. One of them searches his pocket for his wallet. It seems wrong, even if the man explains to Jared that often, people with epilepsy keep some information on their condition with them, and sure enough, there is a small plastic card with the list of Jensen’s medication and some basic information about himself.

Jensen is settled on the gurney, an oxygen mask covering his face. He keeps shaking his head slowly as one of the paramedics speaks calmly to him. The other one asks Jared if he’s gonna ride in the ambulance with them or take his car. Jared wants to tell them that really, he doesn’t know the man, that he doesn’t even have the right to be there, feeling like he’s violating Jensen’s privacy. But then, there was no number to call on the card, no next-of-kin, and Jared can’t leave him alone like that. He's a social worker for God’ Sake. It's his job to help people.

“I’ll take my car,” he tells them as they lift the gurney. “You going to York’s General?”

“Yes. There’s a waiting room near the emergency. Just ask.”

“Okay.”

When the ambulance is gone, Jared finds Jensen’s keys still in the door’s lock. He closes it behind him and walks to his car. He only starts shaking once he’s on the road, more disturbed by what he’d witnessed than he would like to admit to himself. 

The waiting room near the E.R. is empty, except for an old woman knitting silently in a corner. When Jared asks for Jensen Ackles, a nurse comes in a few minutes later, explaining to him that, “Mr Ackles’s condition is stabilizing and that someone will tell him when he can go to see his friend.” Jared gives her his name and explains that no, he isn’t a relative, just a Good Samaritan who happened to be there when the seizure happened. The nurse nods and leaves him there, standing in the waiting room and feeling all kinds of awkward.

Great, he thinks. What’s he supposed to do now? He doesn’t want to leave without seeing that Jensen is better with his own eyes, feels some kind of responsibility towards him since there’s no one else for him, no one to take him home or bring him some stuff if he’s admitted.

Jared finds a coffee machine, but the tepid beverage tastes like nothing but bitter water and he throws it in a garbage can nearby. He goes back to the waiting room and… waits. Usually, Jared isn’t so good at this waiting thing. He gets nervous and achy, like all of his body is tingling with impatience and the need to move. This time, though, he falls asleep almost immediately –probably from the fading adrenaline rush. When someone shakes his shoulder, he almost jumps out of his seat. Sleep is weighing heavily on him, making his eyes itchy. He rubs at them and tries to focus on the face bent over him. White coat. Right. Hospital. Jensen. Epilepsy.

“Mr Padlocki?”

“That’s _Pa-da-le-cki_.” Jared glances at the clock. It’s almost three in the afternoon.

“I’m Doctor Stevenson. I’m the one who treated your friend.”

“Right.”

Jared gets up slowly and shakes the man’s hand. _God, what is he doing here?_

“So, you can go see him now if you like. He’s okay, still sleepy though. And of course he’s exhausted but there have been no episodes other than the one you witnessed.”

“Okay.”

“Look, I know it’s not really my business but I couldn’t get ahold of Mr. Ackles’ neurologist; it seems he has just met with him once since he moved into this area. And I really would like to get him admitted for twenty four hours, just as a precaution.”

“I don’t really-“

“But he’s decided to sign out despite medical advice and I don’t think that’s wise. I know he lives alone and he has a really bad cold –which is probably the reason for his seizure this morning. If you could maybe talk to him, try to make him change his mind.”

“Look, doctor. I barely know him. Isn’t there anyone else who could…? I don’t know… Watch over him?”

“No. There’s no one else listed and he told me he doesn’t have anybody nearby so… well. Too bad. I can’t force him to stay.”

“Yeah well… I need to give him his keys anyway. I’ll… I’ll see what I can do.”

The doctor looks relieved. He shows Jared the way to Jensen’s room and leaves him by the door.

It’s open. He knocks on the frame and enters slowly, almost shyly.

Jensen is sitting on the bed, slowly dragging his still wet, long-sleeve shirt over his tee. He has already put on his jeans and his shoes. His movements are slow, unsure. When his head pokes out of the shirt, Jared’s kind of taken aback at the sight of his pasty white face and the pain creases around his mouth.

“Hey, Jensen.”

Jensen looks at him and his expression shifts from pain to a mix of embarrassment and coldness.

“Hi.”

“I got your apartment keys,” Jared blurts out, putting them on the nightstand.

“Thanks.”

Jensen picks up his coat and begins to put it on. It seems so laborious that Jared has to physically restrain himself from helping him. He shoves his hands in his pockets and shifts from one foot to the other.

“I locked your apartment before I left. Your laptop is in the entrance.”

Jensen blinks then nods slowly. “Right. My laptop.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. M’kind of used to it.”

Jensen clears his throat. “Sorry that you had to take care of me and witness… that.”

“Nothing to be sorry for. T’s’ not your fault. Besides, I’m kind of glad I drove you home. Could have happened on the street.”

“Wouldn't have been the first time,” Jensen whispers to himself, getting up very slowly and holding onto the bed rail to steady himself. He looks like he's about to pass out again, and Jared can't help himself. He really can't.

“Listen, Jensen. Your doctor told me you refused to stay here and-”

“What?” Jensen's head snaps up suddenly. Beyond the awkwardness and exhaustion, there's a fierce light in his eyes: anger.

“You don't have anybody here and-”

“He had no right to discuss that with you,” Jensen snaps, lips reduced to a thin white line.

“He was worried.”

“I'm twenty-six, I can take care of myself. Damn it, I've lived with epilepsy long enough to know what I'm doing. What are you doing here anyway? You didn't have to wait. You don't even know me.”

Jensen's outburst seems to drain whatever's left of his energy. He's panting harshly, trying to catch his breath, and a fine film of sweat is forming on his forehead.

Jared suddenly feels ashamed. The poor guy has just had an epileptic seizure in front of a stranger. Jared has no right to question his decisions. He doesn't even have the right to be here, in what must be a compromising and potentially embarrassing moment for Jensen, a moment when he most needs his privacy.

Jared is really _too much._

“Listen, I'm sorry,” he says sincerely. “I... I didn't know what to do and it all just sort of... happened. At least let me give you a ride back home.”

“No need,” Jensen answers wearily. “I already called a cab.”

He walks slowly to the door, looking like an old man, without meeting Jared's eyes again. Jared doesn't know how long he stands there, thinking about what just happen and wondering if it's the last he would see of Jensen Ackles.


	3. Absolute Beginners

Jared’s best friend, Misha Collins, is twenty-eight years old. They had met when Jared had been hired by Misha’s parents and he had done Jared's training at the cafe. Still to this day, Jared can't make a latte froth to equal Misha’s. Their friendship is unusual. They almost have nothing in common. But it works. Even if Jared is four years younger, he has never felt like some little brother or protégé. It all comes down to a matter of mutual acceptance. Jared doesn't mind Misha's eccentricities and Misha lives with Jared's exuberance and almost endless reserves of energy. 

Misha lives in a small, still unfinished house near Longsands Beach. He has built it himself, as well as almost all the furniture inside. The wooden one-story cottage is settled on a small cliff under the cover of trees, a couple of miles farther down the beach than most of the hotels and inns so popular in summertime. The beach is empty and quiet come September and Misha's house seems more isolated than ever, standing in the wind that keeps agitating the sea.

The day after his strange adventure with Jensen Ackles, Jared finds himself sitting on the floor of Misha's kitchen at eight in the morning, telling his still half-asleep friend what happened after he had left the coffee shop. In the beginning, all Misha does is yawn and nod, but his eyes widen in surprise as Jared's story goes on, and he's completely awake by the time Jared is finished.

"Okay. That’s weird."

"Yeah, right? And last night, I had all these nightmares about like, finding dead bodies everywhere I went."

"Maybe it was just another one of your sugar overdoses." Misha smiles to himself, looking down at the bottom of his coffee cup.

"I think I'm gonna pay him a visit", Jared says.

"What?"

"He wasn't supposed to leave the hospital. Dude, you should have seen him. If you thought he didn't look well before, that was nothing compared to how he looked after he had his seizure. What if... what if he has another one and bangs his head or... I don't know. I'm not gonna be able to live with myself if he's found unconscious or dead..."

"You aren’t making any sense."

"Of course I am. Listen, the doctor asked me to convince him to stay at the hospital. I let it go. I feel some kind of responsibility towards him now."

Misha shakes his head sadly. "You do know that he's probably gonna tell you to get lost and then never want to see you again, don’t you? And that all of your chances of asking him out will be lost forever."

Jared sighs, rubbing at his eyes with the palms of his hands. "Yeah, I know. But I cannot _not_ go. Maybe you're right-"

"There's no _maybe_ about it, Jare."

"Okay, you're _probably_ right, but still, better having him mad at me than dead or-"

"You're a drama queen."

"I'm going. I'm already feeling guilty."

"Feel like I'm gonna lose a client," Misha states, bending forward to pat Jared's shoulder. "Good luck, my friend."

"And I'm the drama queen? Geez, Mish, I'm not going to war.”

"You sure look like it, though."

Jared stands up, wincing as he feels his joints pop. He looks at Misha from what feels like a great height. “You really need to build some table chairs, dude.”

“Not my fault if you’re a giant. Besides, I like sitting on my brand-new, wooden floor. Smells good.”

“You walk on it every day.”

“So?”

“You built your table months ago.”

“Everything in time. Now go ruin your only chance of going out with epilepsy guy.”

“And maybe save his life.”

Misha gives an exaggerated eye roll but doesn’t add anything.

And that’s how Jared finds himself knocking at Jensen’s door at nine in the morning. In his defense, he was totally sincere with Misha. Although he knows he probably won’t be welcomed, he really is worried about the man. He has always been like that, feeling that he owes the whole world some kind of retribution. He has a very acute sense of responsibility and can’t really understand why he reacts so strongly to the misery and pain around himself while others just go on with their lives not really caring that much. His decision to become a social worker hadn’t surprised anybody, really.

It’s his nature to make sure Jensen Ackles is all right and not passed out on the floor of his apartment. As he knocks, he’s already thinking about what he is going to do if no one answers. Should he call the police, the ambulance, maybe burst in? What if…

The door opens, and Jared is so lost in his catastrophic scenario that he gasps in surprise and freezes on the spot.

Jensen looks just as surprised. By the way his short, dark blond hair is mussed on his head and his eyes are only open to slits, he can’t have been awake for more than a few minutes. He’s wearing a worn out David Bowie t-shirt (the drawing from the cover of Alladdin Sane) and low-hanging sweat pants. And all Jared can think is that he’s gorgeous. 

“Jared?” Jensen finally blurts out. He’s got something in his hands –his glasses, and takes his time putting them on. He’s even more beautiful like that, even with his chapped lips and pale face, nose rubbed raw from blowing it too much. 

The reality hits Jared right in the face. What the Hell is he doing here? If he ever stood a chance with Jensen after yesterday, he just blew it. He is a drama queen. He’s too much of…everything.

“Jesus, I’m sorry,” he babbles. “I’m an idiot. I… I was worried about you and I… I… Fuck. Sorry. I’m out of here.”

 

Maybe if Jared leaves fast enough, Jensen will think it was all some fucked-up, post-seizure dream. He turns on his heels and walks down the path, hands shoved in his pockets, trying to make himself as small as he can, which is ridiculous, given his size.

“Huh… Jared?”

He stops dead on his feet. Turns back in slow motion –at least that’s what it feels like- and barely looks at Jensen.

“Yeah?”

“You huh… You wanna come in? Have some coffee, maybe?” Jensen seems as awkward as Jared, shifting on his bare feet.

“F’course.” Jared smiles wide and joins Jensen in three giant strides.

Jensen leads him into a small, clean kitchen. The paint is plain white, just as in the hallway, nothing’s hanging on the walls, no magnets on the fridge. It looks kind of impersonal, but then again, Jensen has only moved in not even six months ago.

The man starts the coffeemaker and puts milk and sugar on the counter in silence with quick, nervous movements. There’s no table, so Jared sits on one of the tall benches near the counter and waits patiently. 

“There,” Jensen says, looking all around himself like he wants to be sure he didn’t forget anything. “You can help yourself when the coffee’s ready. I’m just…” Jensen waves vaguely towards the hall. “Give me ten minutes.”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure.”

“Okay. I just need to…Yeah. Make yourself at home.”

Jared waits. He gets settled on his bench, listening to the coffeemaker, the soft bubbling of the water. Jensen’s footsteps in the corridor. A door creaks gently. There’s some shuffling noise. Drawers being opened and closed. Then there’s the footsteps again. They get closer. Another door opens, creaking loud near the kitchen. Bathroom probably. Water starts running, and then Jensen’s probably…

“Stop it,” Jared murmurs to himself. 

He flips open his cell phone and texts Misha. _I’m in._

The answer is almost immediate. _“In what (or whom? Do I really wanna know?)_

_He invited me inside for a coffee. Woot!_

_It’s probably to keep you calm while he waits for the police to come and get you._

_Shut up and build some kitchen chairs._

_Seriously, Jare. Don’t get your hopes too high._

_You’re just jealous._

_Hun-hun._

Jared is still smiling to himself when Jensen gets back to the kitchen, hair still wet and dressed in a pair of jeans and a knitted shirt with sleeves so long they cover half of his hands. Jared can’t explain why, but this small detail does things to him.

It figures. Everything concerning Jensen does things to him. Is he already that far gone?

Jensen clears his throat and offers a small smile. “Coffee?”

“Yes. Yes, please.”

Less than a minute later, Jensen sits at the counter, handing him a coffee mug. Jared puts too much sugar in it, trying to find a way to pass time without talking. Silence always makes him feel somewhat incompetent, like he has failed his social mission in life, but this time, he doesn’t want to press Jensen, wants him to initiate things, take it at his own pace.

“So huh…” the man finally says, licking his upper lip nervously. “I want to apologize for yesterday.”

A light blush is blooming on his cheeks.

“Why?” Jared asks sincerely.

“Well, I was a dick with you at the hospital.”

“No you weren’t.”

 

Jensen raises one eyebrow in disbelief. “Yes, I was. You offered me a ride home from the café and then you helped me when I had my fit and you were kind enough to wait and make sure I was alright. Damn, you even locked my door. And then I basically told you to get lost.”

“Come on. I overstepped a little when I told you about what the doctor said.”

“T’s’not your fault. I… When I have a seizure it takes me some time… to get back to myself. That’s… Basically, my brain has to reboot itself and when I wake up I’m confused and sometimes aggressive and… Well, that explains my attitude with you yesterday.”

“You really don’t have to apologize, Jensen.” Jared smiles almost shyly. He doesn’t do well with people apologizing to him, or complimenting him. Never has.

“Are you always that nice?”

Jensen’s smile has shifted from a polite one to a more sincere grin. It’s gorgeous. Jared feels himself staring and adds some more sugar to his half-empty mug to keep himself from doing something stupid like reciting an improvised ode to Jensen’s face.

“Anyway. Thank you. For helping me out.”

“I gotta say… It was kind of overwhelming.”

Jensen makes a face and empties his coffee mug. “I don’t really remember anything from the point where I climbed in your car. Happens sometimes.”

“Well you asked me if I could smell the smoke.”

“Let me guess: barbecue smoke.”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Sometimes, just before a general seizure, I get some warning. It’s different for everybody. Sometimes it’s a headache or dizziness or… Anyway. It’s called an epileptic aura. Mine is this barbecue smell. Doesn’t happen all the time. Guess I must have panicked then.” Jensen snorts and then starts coughing. “Sorry,” he rasps.

“We were already parked in front of your apartment and you got out pretty quick, walking like you were drunk or something and you’d just gotten in when I realized you’d forgotten your laptop and I ran after you and when I got inside you were like sitting on the floor and you couldn’t tell me what was wrong but you showed me your bracelet.”

Jensen listens intently, nodding. He’s playing with his silver bracelet under the cuff of his sleeve.

“And then you had your seizure. It was over before the paramedics got here, but you seemed pretty out of it.”

“I didn’t… like, punch or insult anybody?” Jensen asks, his voice barely a whisper.

“No.”

“Good. That’s what was bothering me. Like I said… I’m not myself after a seizure.”

“No. Don’t worry about that.”

“Good.”

Jensen’s mood changes suddenly, like he’s done with the hardest part of the conversation. He becomes visibly more relaxed. “Want some more coffee?”

“I’ll never sleep again if I have another one.”

“Right.”

“I swear. See… The owner of the coffee shop is my friend, Misha. He made me like… this killer double espresso earlier this morning.”

“Okay.”

“So. I was wondering…”

Jared pauses, swipes his too long bangs away from his face. “I was planning to ask you if you wanted to go out sometime yesterday but you were sick so I didn’t.”

“What?”

“Yeah, like… I’ve been waiting for weeks and huh… Thought I totally blew it yesterday back at the hospital like… you’d never want to see me again. So…”

“You’re asking me out?” Jensen asks in disbelief.

“Oh. God. You’re not gay, is that it? I thought… Well, I am, as you can see.” Jared shows his old and worn out rainbow bracelet. The colors have started to fade to grey, which completely cancels the purpose of the thing. 

Jared feels himself blush to the tips of his ears. 

“No, no I’m gay,” Jensen says quickly, and then he blushes too, and they look at each other in the most awkward silence ever.

“So…” Jared finally says.

“So…”

“What do you say?”

“You’re serious?”

“Yeah, why?”

Jensen lets out a soft laugh, deep in his throat. He shakes his head, like there’s something incredibly funny going on. “You… you saw me convulsing on the floor yesterday –and I was a jerk to you afterwards. And I’m like… this coughing, sneezing mess and… You’re asking me out.”

Jared waits. He doesn’t see why Jensen doesn’t seem to believe him.

“Okay,” Jensen says, looking directly into Jared’s eyes. “You’ve seen me at my worst. It can only get better, right?”

Jared must be grinning like a mad man. 

::: :::

Jared loves his work. He could have found an easier job with a better paycheck, but, as he had told his mother, he would have become a lawyer or a doctor if he’d wanted to make money. 

York’s community center has a special program for abused women. An old bicentennial house given to the town by its last owners has been converted into a shelter for women in need. It can accommodate ten women and their kids, but of course, no one is ever turned away. Jared’s job is to help these women take the next step of starting their new life: finding a job, an apartment and, if necessary, helping them through the legal process if their husband or boyfriend has been accused of something. The follow-up is usually one year, but it can be extended if it’s needed.

Jared has a busy week, with at least three visits scheduled each day, and his testimony is needed in a child custody case in court on Thursday. The busier the better, he tells himself, since he’s eager to meet Jensen Friday night. 

“I should look human again, by then,” Jensen had stated. 

Friday comes finally and Jared completes all of his visits in the morning, hoping to get some paper work done in the afternoon. Things don’t go as planned when the shelter calls him around noon. A new woman has just arrived and she’s a wreck. She’d caught her husband beating up their one year old daughter. The little girl is at the hospital and her mother is forbidden to see her until the police have made sure that she didn’t have anything to do with her daughter’s mistreatment.

Jared meets Felicia Day in the room she’s just been assigned. The poor girl is a crying mess, a wild mix of anger and sorrow. With patience and soothing words, Jared succeeds in calming her down enough to get her to talk while he calls the hospital to sort things out. Turns out, Felicia’s husband has never raised a hand to her but he has changed a lot since the birth of their daughter. She’s never caught him before, but there have been a couple of times when she found some bruises on her baby which he explained as accidents. 

Felicia is now so disgusted by her own inability to protect her child she’s barely making any sense at all. She’s a small, thin red-headed girl, is twenty-nine years old and has this cold determination in her eyes that tells Jared she’s never, ever going to go back to her husband, or God forbid let him see their child again. Jared finally gets a hold of Jeffrey Brown, head of the hospital’s social services, and gets thing sorted out. Mr. Brown decides to allow Felicia to see her daughter while they pursue the investigation. Jared has to explain to the mother that her baby girl has a broken arm and a minor concussion. It’s not pretty.

It’s almost five thirty when he finally gets home. An hour and a half before his first date with Jensen. He drops his coat and suitcase in the lobby and heads straight to the kitchen where he opens himself a beer. He’s nervous and fidgety after the afternoon spent with Felicia Day, can’t get the image of her daughter out of his head.

He shakes himself like he can get out of his social worker mindset like it is nothing but a suit of clothes and turns on the radio. He doesn’t really care what’s on, as long as there is noise in his parents’ gigantic house. Silence sometimes makes him feel like his own thoughts are spreading in the space around him, escaping his mind and his control.

A Blondie song is starting on the radio, and Jared sings along at the top of his lungs, not caring about looking like the gayest, biggest dork in the universe. He just needs to feel careless and silly again.

Times like this, Jared misses his parents. They’ve been away for a month now, still two more before they come back. It had been Sherry’s lifelong dream, taking a trip all over Europe. Jared can remember her talking about it when he’d been just a kid. Jerry Padalecki had retired from his business six months ago, and with Jared back home to watch over the house, the timing had been perfect.

He finishes his beer and opens his laptop. Sure enough, there’s a new email from his mom. He sits back at the table and reads about his father being seasick in a Venice gondola, laughing loud enough to cover the music, and finally, feels himself relax at the same time the excitement of seeing Jensen starts running in his vein like little electric sparks.

::: :::

Jensen believes he’s been managing his stress over the week pretty good so far. Maybe it did help that he’d dosed himself up with flu medicine and was in his normal post-seizure state - somewhat dazed and slow. Come Friday, though, the nervousness starts to get the better of him. He isn’t able to concentrate on the medieval literature class syllabus he’s preparing for Professor Kendall. Good thing he still has until the end of next week. Can’t afford to lose this job, he’d been lucky to find it in the first place.

When five o’clock comes, he fixes himself a light dinner but can’t eat much more than half of his sandwich. He still makes the effort to drink a tall glass of orange juice and eat a handful of almonds. He’s still nursing the end of his cold and the seizure he had is too recent for him to take things lightly. In the compromised state he’s in, anything could trigger an epileptic fit. 

He takes a shower and dresses himself –the bar they’re going to is a casual, relaxed place according to Jared. He picks up the jeans Mac likes to call his “Jensen-showing-his-ass-hot- pants” because yeah, he’s going on a date, after all. He has lost a bit of weight since he moved here but he thinks the jeans still do their ass-showing job. He’s got his lucky Bowie Low tee on –a bit worn out but there’s no way he would go out without it, even if he’s hiding it under his black long-sleeve shirt. 

Looking at himself in the narrow mirror behind his bedroom door, he frowns at the pallor of his face and the blue circles under his eyes. His hair is the mess it usually is but hey, Jared had seen him drooling on the floor so whatever.

 _Yeah, Ackles, you keep telling yourself that._ The confused memories of that day come back to him and he sees a blush crawl up his cheeks. Turning abruptly on his heels, he picks up his leather bracelet from the top of his chest of drawers and shuts his bedroom door behind him.

Still an hour to go. He paces in the living nervously before he finally picks up his guitar from behind the couch. Time for some zone out –the good kind. Settling himself in a chair, he starts by tuning the strings and plays the first notes of the Stones’ _Play with fire_. His fingers are a little stiff and it takes a little bit of time to get the chords to sound the way he wants them to but then he’s gone in that quiet place he craves so much and still misses, even four years after he’d put a definitive end to it.

After the first song, he carries on with a variation of _The man who sold the world._ Minutes are flying by. This is going to be his first real date in two years and he wonders what exactly he thinks he’s doing here. He would’ve gone for a one-night stand but clearly that’s not what Jared Padalecki wants and Jensen… Well, Jensen kind of likes him.

The gorgeous, incredibly tall guy had been watching him for some time back at the café and Jensen would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that’s the reason why he went back in the first place. As the weeks had flown by, Jensen had been waiting for an invitation of some sort but apparently, Jared likes to take things slow. And it’s not like he could’ve taken the lead on that one. He’s not good with people, not like he used to be anyway. So he’d just stayed there stupidly waiting for Jared to make a move.

…Which drags him back to Saturday. He’d known he should stay home with how sick he’d felt, but the epilepsy had been well controlled lately and he’d thought he could make it, because he was going to see Jared and this time, maybe this time, the other man would finally ask him out.

That had definitely been a great way to get his attention. Jensen doesn’t really remember his ride in the car. Hates that it feels as though a corner of his mind is stuffed with cotton, and each time he tries to poke at it the cotton only gets thicker. After that, his first memories are some flashes in the ambulance, people calling his name and… Yeah. Been there, done that.

Still, Jared Padalecki had asked him out. He tries not to think that Jared asked out of sympathy because he saw how bad Jensen felt about the whole thing.

Mac keeps telling him that he can’t go on thinking like that. She’d been so excited when Jensen texted her about his date that she’d forgotten to make him feel guilty about what he’d done. Mackenzie, Jensen’s younger sister by six years, is the only person from Richardson he keeps in regular contact with. He sometimes wonders from the conversations they have what she keeps to herself and what she tells their parents or Jensen’s friend. Even though she insists she respects what he’s chosen to do, he has his doubts.

Twenty minutes before seven, Jensen calls a taxi. The service in this town is slow, but at least they don’t keep driving him around to make a couple of extra bucks off him.

He takes a half an Ativan before he leaves. Just in case.

::: :::

The place is called The Cabin and it already looks crowded. Jensen steps out of the cab and tightens his jacket around himself, wondering if he’s ever going to survive his first Maine winter.

Jared is waiting for him near the door, waving his hand in the air like he doesn’t already stand out with his size and his floppy hair ruffled by the wind.

Jensen smiles, feels like an idiot and tries to keep a more straight face, then crosses the street.

“You don’t have a car, do you?” Jared immediately starts to babble. “I should’ve known, I’m an idiot, I could’ve come pick you up or-“

“Hey, it’s okay. My driver’s license hasn’t been valid for quite some time. I’m used to cabs.”

Jared makes this strange face and Jensen wonders if the guy thinks he lost his license for drunk driving or something worse.

“Not that I can’t drive. Well, I can’t, but for medical reasons. You know…” he stutters awkwardly.

“Oh. Right.” Jared shoves his hands in his pockets and does this very sweet thing with his foot, kind of digging his big toe in the ground, just like a kid. “So. It’s freezing. Wanna go inside?”

“Yeah.”

:::

Jensen looks a hundred times better than the last time Jared had seen him. A little nervous, maybe, but hey, it’s not like Jared isn’t.

He loves this bar, _The Cabin._ It’s a narrow but very long room with a small stage on which there are performances every Friday and Saturday night, folk singers most of the time. They also have a great homemade brew, very strong and nicely spiced. Jared drags Jensen to a quiet table far from the stage where the first performance is going to start any minute now. He observes the young man from the corner of his eye to try and guess if he’s made the right choice, picking this place, and judging by Jensen’s interested expression, he did. Giving himself a mental pat on the back, he waves his hand in the air to call the barmaid before sitting across from Jensen.

“So, you like?”

“Yeah. What kind of music do they playing here?”

 

“Folk songs mostly, but sometimes they get a band in that plays a little more rock. There’s also this amazing guy who comes once a month who sings French songs from Brassens and Brel.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

The barmaid comes to take their order and Jared goes with two homemade beers, freezing mid-sentence when Jensen raises his hand to stop him.

“No, I’ll just go with some mineral water.”

“Then I’ll take that too,” Jared replies with a tad too much enthusiasm. 

“No no, dude, have your beer. Can’t drink alcohol, is all,” Jensen says, looking all kinds of awkward. 

Jared obeys and wiggles a bit in his chair as the waitress walks away. “I huh… I wouldn’t have invited you to a bar if I’d known you didn’t drink.”

“Well, it’s not so much that I don’t drink and more that I can’t,” Jensen says, showing his epilepsy bracelet and shrugging. 

“Oh man, that so sucks,” Jared says sincerely, mouth already watering just thinking about his beer coming up.

“Anyway, that doesn’t mean I don’t like being in a bar.”

“Ah. Okay. Great.” Jared smiles and claps his hands together. “So, you look like you’re doing better.”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay.”

“Look, Jared,” Jensen clears his throat as the barmaid interrupts him, coming with their drinks. “I huh… This epilepsy thing. I should probably tell you a couple of things right up front?”

“Okay.”

“So huh… Besides the fact that I can’t drive or drink… I have different kinds of seizures, not always like the one you witnessed.” Jensen looks away like he’s having a hard time maintaining eye contact while discussing his condition and Jared wishes there was something he could say to make this easier. He hasn’t come up with anything before Jensen continues. “Sometimes I just seem to zone out and I’m telling you this because it happens to me all the time.”

“What do you mean… all the time?” 

“Some days I have none, other days I can have five or even ten. They’re called absence seizures or sometimes partial seizures.”

“Oh.” Jared does his best not to sound too surprised, but he kind of is.

“Absences are just like… suddenly I look like I’m daydreaming. It only lasts seconds so most probably you won’t even notice it but if I start blinking like… quickly and my mouth is kind of hanging open and I don’t answer when you speak to me, that’s what’s going on.”

“Yeah, okay.” Jared takes a long sip at his beer and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“That’s about it. Any questions?”

“About what?”

“Epilepsy.”

“Huh…” _Tons of_ , Jared would like to say. He’s a curious guy by nature. But by the way Jensen is nervously playing with the mineral water bottle between his hands, it’s clear he would prefer a change of subject. All right, Jared thinks, let’s get this date going. “No, I’m good. What do you do for a living? I’m a social worker.”

Jensen seems to relax after that. Over the next hour, Jared learns that he works as an assistant at the Literature department of Umaine, mostly from home, that he moved here because he needed a change, and that he can play the guitar. That last part seems to come out inadvertently as Jensen talks about his taste in music –which Jared had already guessed from all the time he’d spent staring at Jensen’s shoulders, and thereby at his fan t-shirts as well, back at the café.

“Really? Do you play a lot? Are you any good?”

Jared has been staring at Jensen’s long, nervous fingers playing with the mineral water bottle and just imagining them running along the strings of a guitar or touching him does things to him. Never knew he had a hand kink. Or maybe… maybe it’s just a Jensen kink. Geez, he’s such dork.

“No I… just… S’just for fun,” Jensen says and his fingers tighten on the green glass.

“Oh.”

 _Stop staring, Jared._

“Are you okay?” Jensen asks, looking at him with concern.

“Huh. Yeah. I don’t really know David Bowie’s music.”

“What?”

“You were saying that you loved David Bowie.”

Yes, like… five minutes ago. Jared blushes as Jensen keeps staring at him with a quizzical expression and Jared immediately lets himself drown in those green eyes, which is a good thing, since he’s not staring at his hands anymore. After another awkward moment, a small smile tugs at Jensen’s lips.

“Well, he’s a genius. You’re missing something.”

“You’ll have to help me out with that.”

The conversation then focuses on Jared. 

If he considers himself good at getting people to open up and talk to him, he has to admit Jensen share this talent. Or, you know, maybe it’s just Jared’s pathological inability to shut up. One way or the other, he talks. As evening goes by and the not-so-good folk singer goes through his Dylan repertoire, Jared brings up the case he’s been working on today, which is, of all the subjects-Jared-can’t-shut-up-about, one that he usually keeps quiet over, as much from respect for his clients and their privacy as an unusual sense of modesty. 

Jensen listens to him intently, only nodding from time to time, head slightly cocked to the left to block out the music.

“I ended up my day taking this poor woman to the hospital to see her daughter and god, it was heartbreaking, seeing this tiny girl with a big cast around her arm and looking absolutely terrified. She all but climbed off her hospital bed when she saw her mom.”

“God.”

“Yeah. How can someone do that to his own child. I’ve been working this job for almost a year now and the things I’ve seen…”

Jared is stunned to realize he’s close to tears. He laughs nervously and shakes his head. “Geez, I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this.”

Jensen smiles. Jared smiles wider.

::: :::

Jared insists on driving him back home. For a Friday, the night is really quiet. Jensen feels the faint fuzziness of the anxiety pill he took still running through his veins and has to fight not to fall asleep with the soft rumbling of the car. There’s this awkward but kind of inevitable moment when they reach their destination and look at each other. Jared’s eyes are shinning and he bites his lower lip and Jensen imagines the press of those lips against his. And…

“So,” Jared says.

“Yeah.”

“I really had a great time tonight.”

“Me too,” Jensen says, because he did.

“Can we do it again… like soon?” Jared grins and looks all but five years old.

“Yes, we can.”

Jensen takes the door handle in his hand, waits a second more, watching for any sign that Jared maybe wants to… 

And there it is. Jared’s face moves toward his, lips parted, and presses a light kiss on Jensen’s mouth. Jared pulls back as quickly, laughs again and scratches the back of his head. 

“I… was that okay?”

Jensen nods slowly and tries to shake off the warm feeling the kiss has given him. “It was really okay.”

“Well, then. Good night, Jensen.”

“Good night.”

Jensen is out in the cold but the warmth keeps spreading inside him and he feels alive and drunk and maybe a little stupid as he unlocks his door, knowing Jared is still watching him, won’t leave the alley before he knows Jensen’s safe inside.

His apartment feels empty and cold.

He looks at his watch. Just in time to take his meds. He’d brought them with him, just in case, but he’s glad he didn’t have to excuse himself in front of Jared. He downs the pill with a glass of water and goes to sit in the living room, adrenaline from the kiss still too present for him to fall asleep. He opens his Mme Bovary book but can’t concentrate on the story, his mind turning back to Jared constantly.

God it’s been too long since he’s felt like this.

This thought brings back some less happy ones. Matthew’s concerned, tired face, sitting in a stiff chair near the hospital bed. Tears pooling in his eyes.

_“Can’t go on like this.”_

_“Shut up.”_

_“No, M’serious, Matt. Can’t… Fuck. This is not a relationship anymore.”_

_“Stop saying stupid things, Jay. Damn it you almost died in my fucking arms, Don’t you dare says that to me now.”_

_“That’s the point. I… can’t stand it, the way you always look at me now.”_

_“How do I look at you?”_

_“Like you’re scared I’m gonna break.”_

_“I’m scared you’re gonna die, Jensen! Hell, what am I supposed to do here, tell me!”_

_And then, then of course, the strange tickling sensation on his face. He’s there, then he’s gone, and then Matt is bent over him, and the colors are fuzzy and too bright around his boyfriend’s pain filled face._

_“It’s okay. It’s okay, Jay. Just a short absence.”_

_“See? This’s exactly what I’m talking about. I’m done, Matt. M’sorry, but I’m done. It’s over.”_

_“Jay…”_

_“Get out. Please. Please… Just…”_

That’s the last time he’s seen Matt. He’s called numerous time, pleaded, yelled, told Jensen he was a fucking bastard, but that image, Matt’s bent shoulders and stupefied, hurt expression. That’s what he remembers the most. That and the disgust he’d felt toward himself and his freaking melodramatic life.

Maybe it can be different this time. If Jensen keeps everything under control, if he’s careful, if…

Yeah, like that has ever worked.

The warm, soothing feeling fades quickly, replaced by this emptiness Jensen’s so used to living with now.


	4. Dead Man Walking

On Wednesday October nine, Jared is invited by Misha and Vicky for the evening meal. All that afternoon, he wonders what they’re going to sit on while they eat but Vicky is very resourceful. She has settled some large cushions on the living room floor and arranged the coffee table in the middle of it all. A fire is burning in the fireplace and Misha has made chicken curry. In the background, music is playing; a new techno pop duo Vicky has just discovered.

Jared loves Victoria. She’s a witty, strong-headed woman in her early thirties with a spark in her eyes and a great sense of humor. She and Misha have been sharing this on and off relationship for almost two years now. Vicky travels a lot, she’s a sexologist and a famous speaker, does conferences all across the U.S. and Canada. She calls Misha her anchor when she’s in port and he seems content to be that for her.

They spend most of the meal listening to Vicky talk about her current writing project, a book on threesomes (yeah, how cool is that?), then, as they eat their desert, Misha flashes a mischievous smile at Jared.

“So, you’ve been holding it long enough. Go on.”

“What?” Vicky asks, curious.

“Jared here had his second date with Jensen yesterday.”

“Oh, that’s right. How did it go, Jared?”

“Great,” Jared can’t help but smile. “We went to the movies.”

“That is so cute. Like a high school date,” Misha coos, and Jared can’t even tell if he’s being sarcastic or sincere –Misha is strange that way.

Vicky smiles in her glass of wine. “Did he invite you in this time?”

“No, and I didn’t press. What’s the rush?”

“Yeah, what’s the rush?” Misha repeats, way too serious for Jared’s liking. “Something you’re not telling us here, Jay.”

“What? No!”

“What’s the matter?”

“It…” Jared rolls his eyes. “I don’t know. He’s great. I mean, obviously he’s gorgeous and sweet and there’s this light in his eyes when he talks about music. But… yeah, I don’t know. I have the feeling he’s holding back on me.”

That’s the best way Jared can explain it, really. There is something about Jensen that escapes him totally and he’s not sure if it’s a good or a bad thing, if Jensen is just a complex person eluding Jared’s ability to read people or if he’s doing it on purpose.

“Come on, Jared.” Vicky frowns and fills his wine glass again. “You guys barely know each other. Of course he’s holding back.”

“Plus, the guy is shy and the first time you actually talked he had a seizure in front of you,” Misha adds. “If you want my opinion, you’re lucky you actually had a date with him in the first place.”

 

Jared nods slowly. He thinks about Jensen’s body so close to him in the darkness of the theater, the crinkles at the corner of his eyes as he’d smiled at something in the movie, then, all of sudden, his serious, almost cold expression when he’d thought Jared wasn’t looking. It’s nothing, really; nobody goes on smiling constantly, but still, it hits Jared somewhere deep down to see him like that, even if only for a few seconds.

Besides that… Yeah. He doesn’t have anything to complain about. They’ve been on two dates already in less than a week and they’re supposed to do something Friday night. Yesterday, when Jared had driven him back home, it had been Jensen who had initiated the kiss. Their tongues had tangled together and Jensen had made this soft humming song in the back of his throat. Jared can’t think about it without feeling a warm rush in the pit of his stomach.

What is he complaining about anyway?

::: :::

Jensen calls his mother every Thursday, more out of obligation than anything else. He loves his mother dearly and he’s not a jerk. At least, that’s what he tries to tell himself when he picks up his phone as if it were some kind of grenade.

The week is going good so far, nothing more than a couple of absences, none of them in front of Jared. He’s managed to accomplish a fairly good amount of work for the French literature class and is to meet Professor Wilkinson Friday morning to see if there’s anything else to prepare for it.

And then there’s Jared, larger than life and funny, so sweet. There is this thrill deep inside him, a sensation so exciting and warm, making him feel alive for the first time in years. Then, he thinks about how everything will probably end and the warm thrill shifts into something cold and twisting, gnawing at him from inside.

Not now. Now, just go with the flow, Jensen. Is it strange that his inside voice of reason is one of a twelve year old girl? God, he misses Mac so much.

It’s almost seven in the evening. He makes his phone call as soon as he gets out of the shower.

Alan is the one who answers. Things are easier with him, like his dad somehow gets the reasons for his actions and accepts them, even if he doesn’t necessarily agree with them. When Jensen had left, Alan had been the one who took him to the airport, silent and broody. The last thing he had said to him had affected Jensen so strongly he had almost burst into tears right there in the middle of the terminal.

“Jensen. I hope I don’t ever receive a call telling me that my son’s body was found several days after his death in his apartment and I have to identify the corpse. Please, be careful.”

Then, Alan had given him a quick hug and left him there to digest his words.

His father casually talks about work and neighbors, ask a few questions, and then, way too soon for Jensen’s liking, he passes the phone to his mother.

“Hi honey,” Donna greets with an uneasy voice.

“Hey mom, how’re you doing?”

“I’m fine. Fine. What about you?”

“Everything’s great, mom.”

“How’s work?”

Jensen takes the opportunity to spend a few minutes off the hook, telling her about class plans and research on Elizabethan era writers, but as he continues, his mother becomes less and less an active participant in the conversation. Jensen knows what’s coming and trails off, taking a deep breath, waiting for it. 

“So, about that assistance dog, sweetheart? Did you put in your application?”

“Hum… Well I looked up some info on the net, mom, and dogs that can sense a seizure coming, especially well trained ones, they’re kind of rare. I mean, I could ask and they would put me on a list and I could wait for… like two years and then the dog’s personality would have to fit mine and-”

“So, you didn’t, huh?”

“Mom-”

“Goddamnit, Jensen! What? Do you think it’s some kind of game you’re playing? Because it’s not. You shouldn’t live in such isolation, not with your condition.”

“Mom, please… Let’s not. Okay?” Jensen hates the pleading tone in his voice. 

“Do you have a death wish or something?” Donna’s voice is cold and harsh. 

“Why would you say that? I just wanna-”

“Live your own life. Heard that a thousand times already. Listen, Jensen, I get it. You don’t want to depend on us? Okay, I can live with that, but why refuse the nursing assistance or the helping dog? What is wrong with you? Because there isn’t going to be any life to live for you if you don’t take better care of yourself.”

“My epilepsy is my problem, mom, not yours. I’m an adult. I can deal with it, okay?” Jensen doesn’t yell, but he’s close. He can feel this mix of frustration and guilt weighing on his body like a second skin made of lead.

“That’s the problem,” Donna says in a sweet and sad voice. “You can’t deal with it. Things have been hard, I know, but you’re acting like a child throwing a temper tantrum, not like a responsible adult here.”

“Okay,” Jensen’s anger is gone as quick as it came, leaving him empty and spent. “Okay. Mom. I… I gotta go. I’ll talk to you next week.”

“Jensen-”

“I’m sorry but I have some work to do and huh… Okay.”

“Please take care of yourself, baby.”

“I will.”

“Okay. Love you.”

“Love you too mom.”

Jensen hangs up before his mother starts crying. He throws his cell with way too much force on the floor. In moments like this, he would kill for a smoke.

::: :::

Friday flies by, another busy day for Jared. He does some apartment hunting for one of his clients and visits Felicia at her house where she’d moved back at the beginning of the week. Her husband, Patrick Stewart, is in jail, waiting for his trial. His first demand to be paroled has been refused. His lawyer wants a psychological evaluation. Jared is familiar enough with the system to know that it will be weeks before any action is taken. That’s what he tells Felicia who’s barely holding it together, dark circles under her eyes and nails bitten to flesh. Her daughter Jessie is doing slightly better than she is, walking around the house on unsteady legs with her cast securely tucked against her stomach like she’s been wearing it all her life. She smiles shyly at Jared, her head full of red curls cocked to the side, before disappearing behind her mother. Jared may be a little bit in love with her.

After work, he runs back home to do a little bit of clean up and get everything ready for Jensen’s arrival. He doesn’t want Jared to pick him up, says he can take a cab, which is ridiculous, if you ask Jared, but there is something in Jensen’s voice, a demand for respect that warns Jared not to insist. At five o’clock, he orders the pizzas and waits impatiently for Jensen, looking out the window.

The cab arrives ten minutes after five and Jared feels this warm thrill in his guts. It’s freezing outside. Jensen wears a blue felt jacket and a pale knitted hat that makes him look all soft and delicate. Jared “awwws” internally and almost jumps his way to the door. 

“Hey!”

Jensen smiles. His cheeks are red from the cold and his eyes are shining. Jared kisses him on a whim, startling him.

“Come in.”

“Huh. Yeah,” Jensen blushes over his reddened skin and laughs nervously. Adorable.

Jared takes him for a quick tour of his house.

“So, I know. I’m a total looser for babysitting my parents’ house at twenty four.”

“Come on, no you’re not.” Jensen stops in front of a series of photos hanging on the wall, one of which is Jared, a chubby toddler smiling at the camera like taking a picture is the funniest thing in the world. “Cute,” Jensen chuckles sweetly. 

“I’m adorable.”

“No siblings, right?” Jensen continues looking at the pictures, serious and focused.

“No, s’just me.”

Jared shivers. Should he turn the heat on?

“Like I’ve said,” he adds, taking Jensen back to the living room, “when David and I broke up, I moved back here. I’ll find something when my parents get back. It’s just more practical this way… And, I have a surprise for you.”

“What?” Jensen freezes on the spot, frowning, like Jared’s surprise is something to worry about. When he sees the dvd box in the other man’s hands, he cocks an eyebrow.

“Labyrinth?”

“Yeah! Figured you could start my David Bowie education right now.”

“With a Jim Henson movie.”

“Yeah.”

“Jared. You do know that Labyrinth isn’t exactly what I’m talking about when I speak of David Bowie’s genius.”

“Come on. It looks fun. I remember watching it once when I was a little kid… Was scared to death of that puppet, right there.”

Jared points at a grimacing face at the back of the dvd box.

“That’s Hoggle.”

“Couldn’t watch the rest. Cried until I was hysterical, according to my mother. Okay, the pizza should be here soon. We’ll eat here in front of the movie.”

“You know, you’re kind of a dork,” Jensen says, smiling.

“You have NO idea, man.”

::: :::

Watching Labyrinth with Jared turns out to be exactly like watching it with a kid. He actually laughs and comments nonstop, speaking with his mouth full. The first time he sees David Bowie, a.k.a Jareth the Gobling King, with his tights that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination, he chokes on his swallow of pepsi –something Jensen thought only ever happened in movies.

“Holy sh…”

“Yeah, right?” Jensen takes another bite of his pizza just to have something to do. He’s kind of embarrassed by this whole thing, having to look at David Bowie in his less than glorious eighties period and feeling responsible for it, at least for explaining it –like his admiration of the man has to be justified somehow. Stupid, Jensen knows. 

“He’s… we can see his penis,” Jared declares so solemnly that Jensen can’t help but laugh.

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Did people make fun of him?”

“Hell yeah. You don’t know about this thing called the internet?”

“Well, it was a role. I mean. He probably didn’t have a choice…”

And how sweet is that? Jared defending Bowie’s career choices like he doesn’t want to hurt Jensen’s feelings. Jared, who doesn’t know Bowie at all if it thinks the stupid goblin king outfit in anyway detracts from Bowie’s glamour rock period.

“Jared. He looks ridiculous, I know that,” Jensen states.

He blinks at the screen where a young Jennifer Connelly decides which talking door handle to listen to. His eyes are tired from working on the computer all day. He takes his glasses from the pocket of his shirt and puts them on, feeling Jared’s eyes focused on him as he does so.

“What?” He asks. 

“You’re… I kind of like it, when you put your glasses on,” Jared says in a low voice. He licks his lips and raises a tentative hand toward Jensen’s face, caressing his left cheek softly, and it’s like Jensen’s insides suddenly catch on fire –he doesn’t even know if it’s the touch or the heat he sees in Jared’s eyes. Something escapes his throat, a gravely moan he can’t hold back.

“I… I’m gonna kiss you now,” Jared murmurs, swallowing loudly.

“Do it.”

In a matter of minutes, the tentative kiss shifts into something else. Jared’s hands wander over Jensen’s chest and arms, feeling large and powerful –and when they press on Jensen’s back, fingers splayed, Jensen moans into the kiss, shoves his tongue forcefully into Jared’s hot mouth. He needs more. All of it. Everything. It’s been way too long since he’s been with someone, and even longer since he felt this way about someone.

Jared gently presses on his chest until Jensen is lying on the couch, his head supported by the armrest. Almost hesitantly, Jensen tilts his hips up, searching for some kind of friction on his hard and constricted shaft. Jared has one knee on the floor, his other leg parting Jensen’s thighs. He responds to the movement with a soft grunt, his crotch meeting Jensen’s, so hot and swollen, an exciting sensation despite all the cloth that separates them.

Jensen wraps his arm around Jared’s back. He smells him, eyes locked with his, his nose tickled by the other man’s long strands of hair, and it’s like there is nothing else in the world except Jared. He moans again, licking the inside of Jared’s mouth, biting tentatively at his lower lip.

“Jesus,” Jared rasps, breaking the kiss and plastering himself against Jensen. His breathing is loud and harsh. He starts licking at Jensen’s ear like his life depends on it and if things keep going, Jensen is going to come in his pants like a teenager.

It starts with the high pitched noise of a kettle whistling. A sudden rush of blood flushes his face.

_Shit._

“Oh fuck, Jared stop,” He says, and the smoke smell hits him full force.

::: :::

Jared panics. One second, they are making out in the most delicious way and the next, Jensen looks terrified and is pushing at him almost brutally.

Jared thinks he’s gone too far, he has somehow managed to miss the signals Jensen must have been sending him and he has taken advantage of him.

“I’m sorry,” He says, getting off Jensen and sitting on the floor as quickly as he can. I thought…”

“No, it’s not… ” Jensen doesn’t try to sit up. He stays right there on his back, raising a shaking hand to take off his glasses.

“What?”

“Put… can you put them somewhere? Fuck, I’m sorry, Jared.” Jensen’s voice becomes slurry and the words come out slow. Jared has already seen that glassy expression in his eyes once before.

He takes the glasses as the understanding of what’s about to happen becomes suddenly clear.

“Hey, Jensen. Are you gonna have a seizure?”

“Think so,” Jensen nods. His hands have twin death grips on the couch cushions.

“Oh. Okay, it’s going to be okay.”

“No need to call an ambulance.” Jensen’s face is covered in sweat and white as a sheet now. “ ‘nly if it lassst for more than five min…”

“Minutes? Is that it?”

But Jensen can’t answer anymore. The first thing Jared notices is his right arm, stretching suddenly and locking itself in a strained, straight position.

“Fuck,” Jensen snarls between teeth clenched so hard it must hurt like hell. 

“Jensen, are you...?”

Jensen’s eyes aren’t rolling back in their sockets. He looks at Jared like he’s still there, trapped in his body somehow. His right arm and his jaw seem to be the only parts of his body affected. Jared feels a deep fear swelling in his chest. He rises on his knees and bends over Jensen.

“Hey, can you hear me? What’s going on?”

Jensen’s arm falls back on his stomach, limp and immobile. His teeth unclench, letting a trickle of saliva slide from the corner of his mouth to his ear. Then, his face contorts in a grimace and he breaks into sobs, tears pooling in his eyes.

“Oh god. What’s going on? Jensen? Talk to me, please.”

Jared takes his phone from his jean’s pocket because okay, he knows what a seizure looks like and this… this doesn’t have anything to do with what he’d witnessed the other day.

He’s about to flip his cell open when Jensen’s whole body is shaken by a violent shiver and his mouth opens wide, letting out a loud and throaty laugh. Jared stares without moving, frozen on the spot by the strangeness of it all. Tears now slide down Jensen’s cheeks at a rapid pace and, as the laugh dies in his throat, he blinks several times, focused on Jared’s face.

“Jensen?”

“Y-yeah,” Jensen murmurs, raising his hand to wipe at his eyes, then mouth. “Yeah, m’okay. Don’t worry.”

 _Don’t worry? How the hell am I supposed to do that?_ Jared wants to scream, but instead, he takes a deep breath and tries to calm himself.

“Was that a seizure?”

Jensen nods and starts to sit up. When Jared tries to help him, he pushes him back softly. “M’okay,” he slurs, even if he’s not, obviously, if the greenish-white cast to his face is any indication.

“I’ll get you a glass of water.”

Moving helps Jared feel grounded to reality. He doesn’t wait for Jensen to answer and makes fast work of filling a glass in the kitchen and taking it back to the living room. Jensen’s head rests against the couch and he breathes deeply, eyes closed.

“There you go,” Jared sits next to him and puts the glass in his hand. Jensen downs it quickly, coughs a couple of times and clears his throat.

“Want me to drive you back home?” Jared adds.

“Huh. I’ll call a cab, don’t worry.”

“Don’t be stupid. Let’s wait a couple of minutes for you to get yourself back together and then I’ll take you home.”

Jensen looks like he wants to protest, but he finally nods. He raises his legs on the couch, bending them toward his chest and wrapping them with his arms. Jared turns off the TV and tries to stay silent –he does, he really tries, but as it has been said before, he’s not very good at that.

“I thought, you know, absences were just looking like you were daydreaming. That’s what you said.”

“Well, that wasn’t an absence.”

“But it wasn’t a seizure either. Nothing like what happened to you the other day.”

Jensen sighs and turns his head toward Jared. “It was a seizure, just not one with convolutions. It’s called a simple partial seizure, if you want the correct term.”

“I… I had no idea that kind existed.”

“It does.”

“Jensen. I… we need to talk about this. I mean, I like you, a lot, and I don’t care if you’re epileptic or the next Dalaï-Lama to be. I don’t. But I have to know what I’m dealing with.”

Jensen frowns. A pink blush crawls over his cheeks. For a moment, Jared is certain he’s going to close up like an oyster, ask to be taken home and that will be the end of it after two and a half dates.

“You’re right,” Jensen startles him by admitting. “We do have some stuff to talk about.”

“Okay. But hey, you look spent. I’ll take you home. We can pick up on this conversation later.”

“No, let’s do this now. I’m really okay, Jared. That kind of seizure… it’s not as tiring as a generalized one. I didn’t even lose consciousness.”

“You remember what happened?”

Jensen nods slowly. “Yeah. Just… Couldn’t do anything to stop it. The tears and the creepy laugh… They’re symptoms, you know? I wasn’t actually in pain or… It’s hard to explain.”

“Does it happen often?”

“Way more than the other kind of seizure. About three or four times a week. Depends.”

“Aren’t you... Aren’t there some drugs that could help with that?”

Jensen laughs, but it’s not a good kind of laugh. His eyes remain dark and serious.

“I’m taking meds, don’t you worry about that. They just can’t make the seizures disappear completely.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. When this happens –a partial seizure, it’s different each time –the stiffening and the weird facial expressions and –I can’t do anything about it. Just… you know, let it follow its course. I know I look like some kind of freak and-”

“You don’t.”

“Whatever. The five-minute rule to call an ambulance only applies to a general seizure, like the one I had the other day.”

“I didn’t know about the five-minute rule.”

“That’s because I didn’t tell you, Jared.”

“So, absence, partial and generalized seizures. Is that it?”

“Yeah well, sometimes a partial seizure is just the beginning of a generalized one but yeah, that’s about it.” 

Jared looks at Jensen, hesitating. He doesn’t want to press him, already knows his epilepsy isn’t something Jensen is comfortable talking about, but up until this point, it’s been like ignoring the elephant in the room. Jared realizes he’s deeply shaken by what has just happened. Not that it had been more intimidating than the first of Jensen’s seizures he’d seen, but he feels differently about this one. The first time, Jared had cared as he cares for the women he works with, or the homeless people on the streets, or in the way any human misery touches him. He’d had a crush on Jensen but he hadn’t known him. And now, even though their first date had only been a week ago, this is already becoming more personal. Something frightening and dark is twisting inside him at the thought that something bad could happen to Jensen, at the thought that he could be hurt or in pain. In any way.

This is more than a crush now. And for all those reasons, Jared can’t let it go.

“Hey Jensen?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you had this all your life? Is it like a genetic disease?

Jensen sighs deeply but keeps looking straight at Jared.

“It can be. Not in my case, though. Started when I was seventeen.”  
“Why?”

“It’s… My family… We were in a car accident when I was seven years old. Nobody got hurt seriously but apparently I hit my head and even though I was fine then, sometimes a concussion leaves scars or changes some shit in the chemistry of the brain. Epilepsy can start years after the fact.”

“Really? You were fine all those years and then, bam! Epilepsy?”

Jensen snorts. “How can you look so giant and imposing and then all of about five years old?”

He smiles, like it’s actually something he likes about Jared and the younger man feels a warmness spreading agreeably in his veins.

“Anyway, yeah… That’s basically what happened.”

A question comes to mind that Jared knows will sound stupid as hell but he can’t help but ask anyway. “What just happened to you, is it because of what we were… you know, doing?”

Jensen bursts out laughing, loud and deep in his throat, so much better than the creepy seizure laugh of ten minutes ago. “No, thank god no. Life would suck big time if that were the case. Look, Jared…” Jensen takes a deep breath to calm down, but the spark of amusement remains in his eyes. “Epilepsy is something I’m used to dealing with and it’s… it’s there, we can’t ignore it, I know. But I don’t want this to build distance between us. If you’re uncomfortable with it, say it man, you wouldn’t be the first and I won’t be upset, I swear. If you’re okay with it, you know all there is to know now and it doesn’t have to be like… something for you to worry about.”

“I… m’not uncomfortable with it. I mean…” Jared searches for the right words to say. “I don’t like it because you’re hurt and there is nothing I can do. And it’s kind of alarming too, I won’t deny it. I’ll probably still ask a lot of stupid questions and well, worry a little bit about it but. Yeah. Am I making any sense at all?”

“You are,” Jensen says very softly.

::: :::

It’s unnerving, having Jared walking him to his door to make sure he’s okay. Jensen does his best not to look too annoyed by the whole thing. 

“I’m fine,” he repeats, unlocking his door.

Jared bites his lip. “I know. Don’t want you to think I don’t trust you to take care of yourself. If I overstep, just tell me okay?”

“Okay. Good night, Jared.”

“Good night. I’ll call you tomorrow… If you don’t mind,” Jared adds quickly.

“I don’t mind at all. We still haven’t finished Labyrinth,” Jensen jokes.

“Yeah right. The little brother…”

“Toby?”

“Yeah. His sister, she saves him, right?”

“Of course. It’s a kid movie.”

“Alright,” Jared smiles, looking sincerely relieved by the answer. “I’m going now.”

He bends his head and kisses Jensen quickly at the corner of his mouth.

Once inside, Jensen goes directly to the living room and turns the stereo on, the first notes of Low –his favorite Bowie album- filling the space. He moves around the apartment, picking up clothes and cleaning up his dishes from lunch in the kitchen, singing low in his throat and playing air guitar whenever his hands are free. Tries not to think too much because the anger is still there, pulsing just below the surface, waiting to take hold of him.

Despite what happened tonight, Jensen doesn’t want to get angry. It’s a strange sensation; the awkwardness, frustration, and humiliation he feels aren’t as strong as they usually are, toned down by the memory of Jared’s body all over him, his goofy smile while watching the movie, and the enthusiastic way he eats his pizza, an enthusiasm he seems to put in everything he does.

Jensen likes him. A lot. Enough to imagine that maybe, things could work out between them, maybe it’s time to let go, to free the epileptic beast.

“Huh,” Jensen murmurs. He’s in his room, looking for some sleeping clothes to wear –laundry is overdue. Again. 

The epileptic beast. Isn’t it strange that this expression should come back to him now? He hasn’t thought about Dr. Carpenter in years.

Jensen puts his boxers on and slowly walks back into the kitchen, all the frenzy of the last half hour suddenly forgotten. The music doesn’t reach his mind anymore, replace by the voice of the young psychiatrist. He remembers her office so well, with the cacti everywhere and those strange abstract paintings hanging on the walls.

_“Why did you stop taking your meds, Jensen?”_

_He doesn’t want to answer. Tugs at his lower lip ring with his teeth. He feels like he’s sinking in the chair, like an unanimated puppet._

_“Jensen? Your parents and your neurologist… They’re worried about you.”_

_“No shit,” Jensen snarls. He tugs at his IV. cannula. Too much tape. His skin under it hurts._

_“Are they right?”_

_“What?”_

_“To worry about you. Tell me why you stopped taking your meds.”_

_“Can I smoke in here?”  
Jensen has already shoved his hand in his scrub pocket, searching for his pack of cigarettes. His movements are clumsy. He feels the sudden urge to scream._

_“Of course you can’t. We’re in a hospital. But I guess I can make an exception.”_

_She takes an ashtray from the drawer of her desk. Right, it’s an exception. Sure it is. But hey, Jensen guesses, if there is a place in the hospital where the no-smoking rule is meant to be broken, it’s in the psychiatric wing. He lights up his smoke with a shaking hand. Dr. Carpenter looks like she wants to help. If she does, there’s no way Jensen will be able to hold the scream swelling in his throat._

_The first puff makes him dizzy. He blinks a tear of irritation from his left eye._

_“So?”_

_“I don’t… Don’t feel like talking.”_

_“Then you won’t get out of here anytime soon.”_

_“Why? I’m fine. They pumped me full of drugs. M’okay.”_

_“Your neurologist asked for a psychiatric evaluation which means that I have to determine if you’re a danger to yourself.”_

_“What? What are you talking about?” A new fear rises from the base of Jensen’s spine, prickling his skin and bones and nerves along the way._

_“Did you try to kill yourself Jensen?”_

_“Because I stopped taking my meds?” He laughs in disbelief. Wants his body to feel as angry as his mind. Then again, his body isn’t his anymore. “That’s a bit haphazard as a suicide technique, don’t you think?”_

_“You tell me. Your parents told the doctor you were very depressed these days, that you refused to go back to school, spend your time sleeping, locked in your room.”_

_“I didn’t try to kill myself. And I’m not fucking depressed. There are two weeks left to the school year, what does it matter if I don’t go? I’ll only have another freaking seizure, because I always do.”_

_Jensen’s cigarette has smoked itself. Focus, he can’t find the energy to focus on anything anymore. The filter is burning his fingers. Jensen throws it in the astray._

_“And stopping your meds would have helped you how exactly? Your parents say you’re aware of the risks. Brutal withdrawal is the worst seizure trigger there is. So, tell me why.”_

_“Because.”_

_The cold metal of his lip ring provides a distraction, something to focus on. He tugs harder, tugs until a spark of pain spreads on his lips. Just to feel alive again._

_“Because…?”_

_“They make me feel like…” Jensen swallows the sudden lump in his throat loudly. He lowers his eyes to his thighs, can’t stand the piercing look Dr. Carpenter is giving him anymore. “Like I’m not there. S’like everything around me is going too slow and it’s hard to think and… I have this feeling m’not myself. Not Jensen. Like I’m no one.”_

_“Did you talk about this with your doc?”_

_Jensen tries for a derisive snort. It comes out a bit pathetic. “Yeah, but there aren’t many other meds they can try, and this one works better than the others. The seizures, they haven’t stopped but they’re shorter and huh… they don’t happen as often.”_

_“Okay.”_

_She waits. Waits for more, for Jensen to spill his guts in front of her. He holds out for as long as he can._

_“So what? I… shit there’s not… I just wanted to feel like me again for a couple of days. It was a dumb move. I get it.”_

_He does. And there is that stupid lump in his throat again, and his eyes are prickling and fuck, he doesn’t want to cry like a baby but it’s already starting and he can’t help it. He takes a long, shuddering breath and it’s like everything is suddenly spilling out of him. “Wanted to feel normal because this? What the meds are doing to me? It’s like I’m dead anyway.”_

_Oh god, there he goes, whimpering and sniffing, rubbing at his eyes to make the tears stop but the sobs keep choking him. He doesn’t have any control over it. Doesn’t have any control over anything. “I want it to stop! I want everything to go back to the way it was before.”_

_He pulls up his legs on the chair, knees drawn up under his chin, arms tucked close to his chest. He’s so, so tired. Of everything, all the time. He keeps on crying because this is the end for him, doesn’t even know where his life is supposed to go now._

_Dr. Carpenter speaks to him the whole time in a low, steady voice. She isn’t sitting in front of him anymore because Jensen can feel her hand rubbing circles on his back. “Epilepsy is your beast, Jensen,” she says as he begins to calm down, short of breath and still hiccupping dying sobs. “You can try and tame it, but it will always remain wild because that’s its nature. There is nothing you can do when it wants free, no matter how hard you try.”_

And she was right.

Jensen falls asleep on the couch, thinking about Dr. Carpenter and her strange analogies. He dreams of himself in a cage, a heavy chain around his heels. It’s a familiar nightmare of his and there is no need to be Freud to understand its significance.

This time, though, it’s different, because Jared is there, outside of the cage and he looks at him silently, shaking his head sadly.

Jensen screams for Jared to help him get out, but Jared just keeps staring.


	5. Rebel Rebel

“Oh god. Oh yeah, come on, like that.”

Jared shifts his hips a little more and moans when his cock is finally pressed against Jensen’s. The sensation is so good, so intense –he has to bite his lips to stave off his impending orgasm. He’s so worked up. They’ve been going at it forever it seems; there’s no way he’s going to last much longer anyway.

Jensen is wiggling restlessly under him, body hot and sticky with sweat. His hands are groping Jared’s ass, fingers digging into his skin. His mouth is slack and he frowns deeply, eyes serious and completely focused on Jared, like this, right there, is the most important thing he’s ever done.

Jared thinks he’s in love.

“We should fuck,” Jensen pants in a gravelly voice.

And just like that, Jared is done. He groans in surprise as his orgasm rips through him, presses his pulsing shaft against Jensen’s lower belly. He can feel the firm muscles quivering there; he moans at the sensation, a strong aftershock coursing through his veins.

“Oh shit. Shit, sorry, couldn’t help it,” he rasps, his head falling on Jensen’s shoulder.

Jensen makes a strange noise in the back of his throat as all of his body starts shaking. Not now, Jared thinks, caught in a sudden bout of panic. He rises quickly on his elbows.

It’s not a seizure. Jensen… Jensen’s _giggling_ , eyes crinkling and face beet red, one hand covering his mouth to try and keep quiet.

“Are you laughing at me?” Jared tries to keep a serious face which is kind of difficult as Jensen’s hilarity escapes his pursed lips and tears start sliding down his cheeks. 

“Come on!” Jared protests, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You can’t say stuff like: we should fuck, and expect a guy to hold it.”

“M’sorry,” Jensen hiccups. “I’m that good, huh?”

“Yeah. You have no idea.”

“So? About this fucking thing?”

“Jesus, the mouth you have on you.”

They’re in Jensen’s bed, all tangled up in the sheets. The rest of their dinner is abandoned in the kitchen. It may still be snowing outside, despite it being only October 24th. The meteorologists had said autumn would be especially cold this year. Jared doesn’t have any difficulty believing it. As for Jensen, he hates it, makes no secret about it. When they’re both outside, walking from one place to another he keeps saying he misses Texas, shivering under all of his layers.

Which always gives Jared the opportunity to wrap his arm around Jensen’s shoulder, tucking him close. Jensen never pushes him away, not like David, who kept asking for space. Always, more space, until Jared had started to feel guilty being six foot four. But then again, David can’t compare to Jensen. In any way. 

Jared sighs and lets himself roll onto his back, next to Jensen. This, what they’re doing, it’s a step. They’ve been fooling around intensely for the last week or so but this is the first time they've taken it to the bedroom. 

“Is it a problem?” Jensen asks in a quiet voice, staring at the ceiling.

“What?”

“My mouth.”

“Oh. No! Not at all. Sorry, I was kind of lost in my thoughts. It’s just… surprising, is all.”

Jensen turns on his side, head tucked in the palm of his hand. “What do you mean?”

“Have you ever heard the expression: It’s always the quiet ones?”

“Oh, geez. Here we go.” Jensen rolls his eyes.

“Well, you’re kind of reserved, man. Can’t deny that. But as soon as we start making out you become all talkative and eager and stuff. That’s pretty hot.”

It is. Jared’s dick approves by twitching feebly. Jensen blushes. 

“So?” He asks, scratching the back of his head. “Is this my punishment?”

“What punishment?”

“For making you come too soon. I don’t get to come at all?” 

“Oh. Oh. Sorry… Sorry, I kind of forgot.”

“Well ain’t that great?” Jensen smiles as Jared slides his hand under the cover to feel his length hard and hot, resting against his belly in a mess of cooling sperm.

He wraps his hand around it and gives it a good stroke. Jensen cries in surprise and hums low in his throat. “T’s’what I’m talking about,” he murmurs, tilting his hips to give Jared better access. Jared starts jacking him off hard and fast. They’re still getting to know each other’s bodies, what pleases the other, which parts are the most sensitive. Jared already knows how Jensen likes to have his balls fondled when he gets himself off; so that’s what he does, examining his face to see when the grimace of pleasure takes over, what movement causes his eyes to close. It won’t be long. Jensen’s already panting. Hard and loud.

“We should definitely fuck,” Jared says in a calm, casual tone.

“Y-yeah.”

“Like… Soon. Are you a bottom or a top, Jensen?”

“I… Jesus, just like that… I don’t… Don’t mind either position.”

“I’m more of a top, myself, but hey, I’m kind of versatile too.”

Jared rolls Jensen’s balls in the palm of his hands more firmly; rubs the pad of his thumb over the moist tip of his cock on each upstroke. Jensen abandons himself to the pleasure, licking his lips almost compulsively, arching his back and grunting in rhythm with the movement.

 _I love you_ , Jared thinks, admiring the flush rising on Jensen’s cheeks and the saliva wetting his lips, making them shine. He won’t tell, of course. Not for now anyway.

“I… keep on talking,” Jensen pleads in a high pitched voice.

“What do you want me to say? How I can’t wait to be inside you?”

“Can’t… wait either. Oh fuck, m’close.”

“Thinking about me fucking you? Hitting your prostate, holding you close and sucking at your neck while-“

“Oh god, yeah. Fuck, m’gonna, m’gonna-“

Jensen comes with a throaty shaking moan, body jerking as Jared coaxes him through his orgasm, hot come sliding over his fingers. When the other man starts to shiver, wincing as Jared keeps on stroking his oversensitive dick, he lets go and keeps on looking at him, memorizing every detail, every noise Jensen makes. And thinking about how much longer he'll be able to hold out before he spills his love declaration all over the both of them.

“Whoa.” Jensen laughs nervously, running his fingers through his hair. “That was… intense.”

“Yeah, it was.”

Jared grabs the Kleenex box on the nightstand and starts cleaning Jensen. “No, wait. Need a washcloth. Gotta take my meds anyway.”

“Okay.”

“Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

Jensen’s mention of his medication brings epilepsy back to Jared’s mind. Nothing has happened since that night when they watched Labyrinth together, nothing except absences, which Jared is starting to get familiar with. He has witnessed a least a dozen of them –a few seconds each. Most of the time, Jensen isn’t even aware he's just had one. He goes very still and blinks rapidly, sometimes making a rhythmical guttural sound, and then he comes back and goes on with whatever he was doing. The first few times, Jared would tell him that he’d had one; at the beginning, mostly to be sure those were absences, then, because it seemed like the right thing to do. He quickly changed his mind when he realized how Jensen got upset and uneasy every time. Now, he just leaves it be, only talking about it if Jensen is aware of it and mentions it first.

Jensen is already sliding back under the covers, shivering. He gives a warm washcloth to Jared who makes quick work of cleaning himself. Then, he tucks himself under and lets Jensen rest his head on his shoulder. Jared fights the almost irresistible torpor that has started to descend on him. He’s not sure he has the will to get up and dress himself to go back to his too big, too silent house.

“Maybe we can sleep a couple of hours, then try that penetrative sex thing,” Jensen mumbles, his breath hot on Jared’s skin.

“Well-“

“You don’t have to. Stay the night, I mean,” Jensen adds quickly.

“Man, I was so hoping you would ask me,” Jared grins to himself and starts stroking Jensen’s back.

“Okay, then.” Jensen says after a few seconds of silence. There is a smile in his voice. 

::: :::

Jensen is barely awake. It always takes him some time after he wakes up to escape sleep’s warm arms and come back to consciousness. This morning, however, the smell of coffee makes his nostrils twitch and his stomach growl. He remembers Jared and smiles, stretching languorously on his bed. Last night had been great, even if they didn’t wake up to have some more sex.

Jensen likes sex. Correction: he loves sex. With Jared especially. He can barely think about him without getting a hard on and doesn’t know if it’s because he's been in a bit of a dry spell after breaking up with Matt or if it’s strictly Jared related. _Jared related_. Hum. He likes the sound of that.

Jensen dresses with the clothes discarded on the floor, put his glasses on and heads straight for the bathroom, wobbling on his feet and blinking against the cold morning light. He empties his bladder and brushes his teeth quickly just to chase away his morning breath.

Jared is sitting at the kitchen counter, eating a bowl of cereal and listening to the news on the radio. The coffee is almost done, bubbling and hissing in the coffeemaker. There is no trace of snow on the ground, outside. Thank god for that. Jensen can’t even think about winter coming up without shivering.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Jared smiles around his spoon. “Hope you don't mind. Kinda helped myself here.”

“Are those any good?” Jensen takes the Froot Loops box in his hands. “I think I bought this the week after I moved in.”

“Colorful sugar loops never turn bad. It’s not like it’s real food anyway.”

“And then again there you are, eating them.”

“I’m a sugar addict.”

Jensen ruffles Jared’s hair and fills two coffee mugs. He only then realizes that the mess of last night is gone. The dishes have been washed, the oven cleaned up. 

“Have you been up for long?”

“Couple of hours.”

“It’s only seven.”

“I’m a morning person.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Listen, if you wanna use the shower-”

“I have to go back home to change so I’ll shower then. My first visit isn’t until ten this morning. No hurry.”

“Good.”

Jensen takes his pillbox and empties it into his mouth, then downs the pills with a mouthful of coffee. He only notices Jared’s eyes on him when he sits at the counter facing him.

“What?”

“That’s a lot of pills.”

“Huh. Yeah.”

“You need all those and your epilepsy isn’t even under control?”

It’s way too early to talk about something so unpleasant. Jensen wants to shake it off, but there they are –Jared's big innocent eyes, and damn it he just can't resist.

“It’s only two kinds of pills. Need two of each to complete the necessary dosage.”

“Still…”

“Jared,” Jensen sighs, maybe sounding a little more annoyed that what he'd intended to. “My epilepsy is what doctors call drug resistant. I’ve tried plenty of combinations of different meds. This is what works best.”

“Oh. Okay. Sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

Jensen drinks his coffee and reaches in the cereal box to take a handful of Loops. They give up way too easily under his teeth and taste like humidity. Jensen winces and swallows quickly.

“They’re not good anymore.”

“With some milk, you wouldn’t notice the difference,” Jared states firmly.

He empties his bowl by drinking the milk directly from it, then points his spoon at Jensen.

“I didn’t forget, you know.”

“What?”

“You were supposed to show me the vid after desert, but we had sex instead.”

“Well, sex is a good reason not to do something.”

“Hell yeah, but still.”

“Jesus! It’s seven in the morning.” 

“I’m so ready.”

If you’d ask Jensen, he still doesn’t really know how it happened. Jared probably has some kind of mental mystical power because again and again, Jensen finds himself telling him things he usually prefers to keep to himself. Like the fact that he may have read the first Twilight book(he was bored) and that he likes to put mustard on his toast in the morning sometimes. Jared has this wide open face that’s practically saying: _Talk to me. Tell me everything. I will never judge. Everything you say is mind blowing for me_.

That’s not even an exaggeration. And that’s how Jensen found himself telling about how he is a damn good guitar player and not a half bad singer, that in fact, he had been part of a band when he was a teenager. They had been making out and Jared had been doing this thing with his hands in Jensen’s short hair that made him hot all over. That’s his excuse for letting it slip out that he may be in possession of a home video of one of the band’s practices, and agreeing to trade its contents for a pic of Jared dressed in drag for last year’s Halloween. A very ugly, hairy, giant drag queen. Because of course, as soon as they had talked about it, Jared had delivered.

And now, he expects Jensen to do the same.

“Okay. Come on.”

::: ::: 

Despite what Jensen might think, Jared wouldn’t have insisted if he’d see the slightest hint of uneasiness on Jensen’s face, still gruff from sleep. On the other hand, this video seems important to understanding who Jensen is now, because there is still something about him that escapes Jared, an edge that he just doesn’t get.

Like this difference between Jensen in everyday life, quiet and composed, sometimes shy and often nervous –and this other Jensen, fierce, passionate, even playful, who suddenly comes out during sex, or when they’re intimate. The disparity is surprising to say the least. 

“Okay,” Jensen fiddles with the dvd. “It’s a video taken by Mackenzie. We were rehearsing for a show in the school gym.”

“Did you have a band name?”

“Huh. Yeah.” Jensen blushes at that, then turns his back to Jared and puts the disc in the dvd player. “We were doing this homage – only Bowie songs and huh… remember that album with the Ziggy Stardust character?”

“Yeah… Wait. The rise and fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars.”

“Yep.”

“I’m an awesome student,” Jared grins. “So, that was the name?”

 

“Not exactly. It was…” Jensen steps away from the TV and clears his throat. “Jensen Ackles and the Spiders from Mars.”

“Whoa.” Jared is impressed. He really is. “Your name was in the band’s name? Were you like… the lead?”

“Sort of.” Jensen sits beside him with the remotes. “Okay, here goes nothing,” he whispers, a light blush still tainting his cheeks. He presses play and settles with his legs pulled back against his chest.

The image is blurry, then focuses slowly as a young girl's voice speaks too loud into the mic. “ _This is the Mackenzie-cam. I’m at Roosevelt high school and I’m gonna film the Spiders’ practice._ ”

It’s a gymnasium with a small stage built in the back. Three teenagers are working on it, settling the instruments and the equipment and speaking loudly to each other. As the camera gets closer, one of them raises his head. He smiles, blue eyes shining with excitement, and finishes tying a bandana around his head.

_“Hey, you. What’s with the camera?”_

_“I’m going to film you guys playing.”_

_“Oh. Okay.”_

“That’s Christian,” Jensen murmurs as the young man walks toward the camera until his face fills the screen.

“ _We’re going to rock your world, princess,_ ” he mocks in a gravelly voice, tongue sticking out.

Mackenzie giggles and the camera shakes a bit.

 _“Come on.”_ Christian walks backwards. _“This ugly guy here is Steve.”_

Steve, a tall guy with semi long blond hair, puts his guitar away and gives Christian the finger. _“Shut up, Kane.”_

_“Hey! Careful! Keep it at a PG level. We don’t wanna hurt little Mack’s ears.”_

_“I’m not a baby,”_ Mack protests. Christian winks at her. 

Steve smiles. _“You gonna film us?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“Cool.”_

The other boy, who’d been fiddling with a mic, comes to join them, smiling.

 

“ _… and this is the great Jason Manns,_ ” Christian jokes, taking him by the shoulders and squeezing hard.

Jason blushes a little, makes an awkward wave of his hand and goes back to the equipment.

“ _Mel -our terrific drummer- is back working the console.”_ Christian explains.

_“Where’s Jensen?”_

_“Outside, having a smoke,”_ Chris says, then makes this comic, surprised face. _“Damn. I did not just say that.”_

“ _I know Jensen smokes,_ ” Mackenzie says in an exasperated voice. _“Don’t worry, I won’t tell.”_

_“You better not.”_

_“Hey, what’s going on? What are you doing here?”_

Jared recognizes Jensen’s voice, slightly more high-pitched but still. The camera turns to him, and Jared’s mouth kind of drops open, just like a cartoon character.

There is a tall and lean teenager, wearing too tight jeans with holes all over them, a black tee clinging to his narrow shoulders and large electric blue suspenders hanging down to his waist. There are several leather bracelets covering both of his wrists. His hair is styled in some kind of Mohawk on the top of his head and his face… God, he looks young, still has this roundness to his cheeks and baby soft aspect of the skin. He has a ring through his lower lip, a small pin in his right nostril and some kind of earring on in his left ear, like a series of small rings that run all the way from the top to the lobe. Jensen’s eyes look even bigger, underlined by a smudge of black eyeliner. 

“Oh my god,” Jared murmurs.

“Yeah,” Jensen agrees, a hand covering his eyes as his younger self talks with the camera, looking kind of annoyed by Mackenzie’s idea.

“You… That’s really you,” Jared adds.

Uh-huh.”

“You look…”

“Stupid, I know,” Jensen says, still covering his face.

“No. Hot. You look so hot.”

“Shut up.”

 

 _“Come on, give me that, munchkin,”_ younger Jensen says, trying to grab the camera, a playful and smug smile on his face.

The image becomes blurry again as Mackenzie protests energetically. Then she’s facing the camera, a young blond girl with freckles all over her nose and an unconvincing pout. Jared recognizes her from a few pics Jensen has shown him.

_“It’s my camera, Jensen!”_

“Would you look at her,” Jensen uncovers his face. He smiles at his sister fondly. His younger self teases Mackenzie for a minute, then hands her back the camera, laughing. 

…And Jared’s mouth opens slack once more. Young Jensen tells Mack she can record the first song, but then she has to let them work. He’s sweet with her and smiles as fondly as the older Jensen. Then, he turns his back, runs the couple of feet that separate him from the stage and jumps on it, all youthful grace and agility. A black haired girl joins him and settles behind the drum set.

“That’s Melissa,” Jensen says, still smiling, but more distractedly.

 _“Hi, I’m Jensen Ackles”_ , young Jensen speaks into the microphone in front of him, _“And these are unimportant people playing with me.”_

 _“You’re so full of shit,_ ” Christian smiles, bumping him with his shoulder.

_“Anyway, we’re going to play Starman especially for my pain-in-the-ass little sister. Here we go.”_

Mackenzie giggles behind the camera. Jensen takes an acoustic guitar waiting beside him and slides the strap over his head. He mumbles something away from the mic –probably counting- then starts playing the soft first notes of Starman. There is a chorus at the beginning of the song, sung by Christian and Jason, then Jensen starts singing in a soft, broken voice and at this point, it would probably be redundant to point out that Jared’s mouth goes open slack. Again.

“You’re good,” he whispers, taking a look at Jensen from the corner of his eyes. The other man is grimacing.

“Well, I think I'll go take a shower if you don’t mind. Always hated to see myself on film.”

Jared nods distractedly as Jensen leaves the living room. He still can’t believe what he’s seeing. Hearing. The version of Jensen caught on tape is almost irreconcilable. People change –adolescence is a period of experimentation and a quest to find one's identity. Jared knows that. His own adolescence isn’t that far away. He remembers too long limbs and a general clumsiness, feeling lost in his own ever growing body and compensating by being a goof, the funny friend everyone wants to have, always there, always ready to make you smile or laugh, if that’s what you need. 

But this Jensen he’s looking at, listening to, is so utterly different from the one he knows, or thinks he knows. This Jensen is confident and self-assured, maybe even a bit self-centered. How can someone go from that, with the make-up and piercings and provocative clothing to a shy and quiet twenty-something man working as an assistant literature professor? The difference is stunning. Jared guesses the open-minded, playful person Jensen becomes in bed is much closer to the who he used to be. It’s fascinating. 

The song is coming to an end and, as the last note dies, Mackenzie starts cheering and whistling way too close to the camera mic. Jensen makes the devil sign with both of his hands at her and the video cuts abruptly, switching to a blue screen. Jared can still hear the shower. He stretches lazily and starts to stand up when the blue screen gives way to another home video. The camera view is steady, probably because it’s sitting on a tripod. The view covers what looks like a dining room and part of a living room. Sitting at the table is Mackenzie, looking about the same age as in the other film, surrounded by three girls. There is wrapping paper scattered all over the place. A woman –Jensen’s mom, Jared guesses, comes into view with a cake that she puts on the table. The girls are laughing and speaking all at the same time. A middle aged man joins the woman, smiling.

_“Ready for the cake, Mackenzie?”_

_“Is Jensen still sleeping?”_ She asks quietly.

The girlfriends exchange some mysterious look. The woman makes a very soft, very sad smile and says something to her husband who nods.

 _“Let’s see if he’s up for a piece of cake.”_ Jensen’s dad says.

Mackenzie nods, looking close to tears suddenly. The view of the living room couch is not that great, but good enough for Jared to realize there is someone under the comforter thrown over it. Mackenzie’s friends are speaking loud and fast, so Jared can't hear what she says as the mother sits on the couch and uncovers Jensen’s body. He blinks very slowly at her and Jared feels a sickening sensation in the pit of his stomach, as he squints his eyes to get a better look.

Jensen’s face is a pasty white, his eyes are glassy, two green orbs full of confusion. He looks about the same age as in the other video, except he’s thinner, a lot thinner. There is no makeup, this time. His hair is plastered to his head, his lips pale and chapped. He’s trying to sit up but he’s shaking so badly his father has to go and help him. Jensen wears a white tee looking two sizes too big for him and a pair of sweatpants barely hanging on his hips. He looks very ill, and by that, Jared means the life-threatening kind of ill. Jensen's mother keeps speaking to him. Mackenzie looks at them, not even bothering with her friends anymore. Jensen finally stands up with the help of his father who keeps an arm around his waist and helps him walks to the table. They disappear from the camera view for a few seconds. His mother lights the candles on the cake and Mackenzie makes some space beside her. Her friends don’t look that excited anymore. They stare at Jensen walking towards them.

“Sit next to me, Jay,” Mackenzie says.

“Alright, alright, m’coming,” Jensen says, appearing on the screen with his father still holding him. His voice is drawn and low. He tries for what must be a smile but ends up as a grimace.

He looks clearly relieved when he can finally sink into the chair next to his little sister. She immediately rises on hers to wrap an arm around Jensen’s neck. He kisses her temple. Their mother smiles nervously and turns her back on them. Their father claps his hands together.

 _“Okay, guys,_ ” he says in an almost too enthusiastic voice. “ _I want to hear you sing now. Come on. Tammy, Jenna, Kat, are you ready?_ ”

“What are you doing?” 

Jared yelps in surprise when he hears Jensen’s voice right behind him. He bends over the couch, grabs the remote and turns the TV off.

 

“It… It was just after your band practice,” Jared explains, already rising to his feet because it’s clear, in Jensen’s voice, that he’s not pleased. Not at all. Jared feels guilty already, although he’s not quite sure of what he did wrong.

Jensen faces him, hair still wet from the shower, eyes dark behind his glasses. “I didn’t even know there was anything else on that disc.”

“Yeah. It was your sister’s birthday,” Jared states needlessly. 

“Okay. Alright.”

“You-“

“I wasn’t feeling well that day.”

It’s more than that. Jared can see, but it’s clear as day Jensen won’t talk about it.

“Oh. Okay. Hey, you guys were awesome, by the way.”

“What?”

“Your band.”

 

“Oh.” Jensen clears his throat and turns his back on him, walking toward the kitchen. “I’ve got some work to do now. Notes on the Arthurian legend to go through.”

Jensen takes a thick book from his bag, and his laptop from the counter. In other words, he wants Jared to go.

“Yeah… I need to go change anyway.”

“Alright.”

“Jensen? Are you angry with me? Did I…”

Jensen laughs nervously and passes right in front of him without stopping. “No. Not at all. Just. Stuff to do, you know?”

“Okay. I’ll call you tonight.”

“Yeah.” Jensen says from the living room, where he’s already sitting at his small desk. “Yeah, call me.”

“So huh… have a nice day.”

“Uh-huh. You too.”

Jared walks himself to the entrance, still confused about everything that just happened. There is nothing left to do right now. He put on his boots and jacket and exits Jensen’s apartment in silence, hoping this wasn’t the last time he’d been there.

::: :::

Jensen doesn’t respond to any of Jared’s texts throughout the day. His day is bad enough even without Jensen's silence. A cop with whom Jared has a working relationship calls him about Stewart’s case. According to him, Stewart’s lawyer is “one cunning bastard” and he has already asked for another audience with the judge about a new demand for release on parole. Jared decides to keep the news to himself until the audience demand has been studied and answered. Felicia Day is upset enough as it is without putting more weight on her shoulders. In a perfect world, she and her daughter would live a happy and safe life away from Stewart. This isn’t a perfect world, far from it, and if a judge decides that Jessie’s father isn’t a threat to her, he’ll issue a restraining order forbidding Stewart to approach the little girl. Jared has seen it enough not to be too hopeful.

The last text he sends Jensen at around four in the afternoon before heading to the Cambio Café where he knows Misha will be is a simple: _Call me. Please._

The café pretty busy for a Friday. Misha barely has the time to acknowledge his presence before getting back to work. Jared orders sugary stuff and broods all by himself, which is a thing he doesn’t do often. He just can’t find the energy to cheer himself up.

He barely has the time to inhale his apple turnover before his cell rings. It’s an unknown caller. He answers, trying not to sound too disappointed.

“Jared?”

Jensen’s voice is unsure and low.

“Hey! You got my messages?”

“Huh. No I… Could you come and get me?”

“Why? Where are you?”

“York’s general.”

Jared is already standing up and getting his things together. “Are you alright? What happened?”

“M’fine. S’just… The stupid doctor won’t let me go home unless there’s someone with me.”

“I’m on my way,” Jared makes his way through the crowded café, trying to put his jacket on at the same time. Misha gives him a quizzical look over the noisy barista. Jared shrugs and hurries out into the cold afternoon.

“Are you okay?” He asks, walking toward his car.

“Yeah.”

“You had a seizure?”

“Yeah. I… okay, there’s a nurse here to take a blood sample, gotta hang up.”

“I’ll be there in like… ten minutes.”

“Thanks.”

Jared makes it in eight minutes. Concern and anxiety are swirling in the pit of his stomach. He feels sick and short of breath. Wonders if Jensen’s seizure has anything to do with what happened that morning. Which is a stupid, irrational idea, but that’s the way Jared is. Maybe Jensen had been really upset about Jared watching that freaking dvd, maybe the whole thing stressed him enough to trigger a seizure. Jared has done some reading on his own about epilepsy over the last couple of weeks. Seizures can be triggered by all sorts of things: nervousness, lack of sleep or taking meds on an irregular schedule are just a few of them. The problem with Jared’s reading is that there are so many different epileptic syndromes with different symptoms he’s drowning in them. Asking Jensen more questions isn’t an option. Jared can see the coldness and exasperation in his eyes each time his epilepsy is mentioned.

Jensen is in the waiting room of the E.R, sitting on a straight chair and looking seriously pissed. His upper lip is swollen and purple, his face pale –eyelids heavy, with this bluish taint to them. He holds his jacket tightly around him, looking straight ahead. Jared can almost see a little dark cloud smoldering over his head, like in the cartoons.

“Hey!”

“Hi.” Jensen says slowly. He gets up with careful movements and sways a little on his feet. When Jared tries to take his arm, he pulls back quickly. “’M’fine.”

“Okay. Are we ready to go?”

“Hell yeah.”

Jared walks beside Jensen, careful not to touch him but keeping close, just in case. He seems steady enough, just way slower than usual. He starts shivering outside and, this time, Jared can’t help but put his arm around his shoulders. He feels Jensen tensing next to him.

“Come on. I know you’re okay, but it’s freezing,” he says quietly.

“Fucking Maine,” Jensen mumbles, but doesn’t pull away.

Jared waits until they’re both settled in the car, heater turned on to the maximum and on their way to Jensen’s place, before asking him what happened. Jensen sighs and looks out the window. He doesn’t look pissed anymore, just tired, and sad. Jared hates seeing that expression on his face. 

“I was taking the garbage to the dumpster behind the house, just after lunch and… Fuck, I don’t know. No warnings. Woke up, the paramedics were there and that old lady from upstairs too. She saw me from her window, called the ambulance.”

“Well it’s a good thing she saw you, right?”

Jensen shrugs.

 

“It wasn’t that bad of a seizure. I would feel it if it had been. If it had happened just five minutes earlier, I would’ve been inside. And all the freaking fuss with the neighbor watching from her balcony would’ve been avoided. Didn’t need an ambulance or to go to the hospital.”

“You hurt yourself.”

“Split my lip, is all. Happens all the time. Anyway, thanks for coming to get me.”

Jensen yawns, then winces. A fresh drop of blood swells in the middle of his upper lip.

“You would’ve been alone,” Jared realizes. “If that lady hadn’t seen you, you would’ve been alone in the cold and-“

“Well, newsflash, Jared. I don’t choose the places or times for a seizure. Think something like that's never happened to me before?”

There’s the exasperation coming back. This time, though, Jared just can’t let it go.

“You said you didn’t get general seizures that often. And this is the second one in less than a month.”

“What’s your point?”

“Shouldn’t you tell your neurologist? I mean, maybe the meds aren't working out that well and-“

“Jared. You don’t know anything about my epilepsy. Don’t… don’t do this.”

“What?”

“I’m used to it. Know how to deal with it. There’s no need for you to try and get involved.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Jared doesn’t say anything after that. He doesn’t want to fight. Jensen is in no state to fight. He’s still coming back from a seizure. Jared’s sure Jensen doesn't meant to be rude.

“We’re here,” he says quietly. 

He gets off his seat and quickly rounds the car to help Jensen out. The other man looks too tired to refuse the arm Jared is holding out to him but he carefully avoids looking at him all the way to the door.

“Probably unlocked,” Jensen whispers, and he’s right. Jared holds the door open for him and closes it behind them. Jensen sighs and leans against the wall, short of breath.

“Want me to help you out of your shoes?”

“I… Fuck. Yeah, think I need help.”

“What if we go sit in the living room? It’ll be easier that way.”

“Okay.”

Jensen leans more heavily against Jared, body hot and shaking slightly. He literally falls back on the couch, eyes closed, breathing hard through his nostrils.

“Are you alright?”

“Just tired. Nothing abnormal here.”

“Okay.”

Jared bends down and takes off Jensen’s shoes, then helps him out of his jacket and takes the clothes back to the hall. When he comes back, Jensen’s eyes are open and tracking him.

“Do you want some water? Or… maybe, to lie down in your room?”

“Why are you doing this?” Jensen asks in a low, gravelly voice.

“What do you mean?”

“Sit down.”

Jared obeys and settles next to Jensen, careful to leave him some space.

“So?”

Jensen turns his head slowly toward him. The swelling on his lips seems to have worsened, giving the impression he’s pouting like a little kid.

“Why are you so nice to me?”

Jared opens his mouth, then closes it. He doesn’t know what to say to that, which, in his case, is a rarity. 

“I mean… This morning, I practically threw you out and I didn’t answer your texts and then I called you because I needed a ride and you practically flew there.”

“What was I supposed to do?”

“Tell me to get lost. That’s what I would’ve done.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Damn it, Jared!” Jensen snaps, startling him. “I’ve been a jerk. Again. Why aren’t you mad at me?”

“I… I’m not mad. This morning, I thought there was something on that video you didn’t want me to see and that you would tell me about it eventually. I should have stopped the dvd after the song and I didn’t.”

“None of this is your fault.”

“Okay. Still… We’ve been… kind of together for less than a month. I didn’t want to rush you into talking to me about things you’re not ready to talk about. And I get that I can be… like… too much and sometimes I don’t realize it and I…”

Jared sighs, closing his eyes. He hadn’t realized until now how scared he’d been that Jensen would cut him off after the morning's incident. Damn it, he’s so far gone for this guy.

“Don’t want to mess things up between us. This… this is important to me.”

“Fuck,” Jensen rasps.

“What?”

“I… I’m not a nice guy, Jared. Not like you. The more you get to know me, the more you’ll realize it.”

“That’s not true.”

Jensen gives him half a smile. “This, what you’ve seen today. This's me. Do you understand that? The epilepsy and the bad temper and…. It’s not going to get any better.”

“I don’t care about that. I’m not asking you to be perfect, Jensen. And well… as for the epilepsy, I kinda knew from the get go what I was getting into.”

Jensen looks at him in silence for a long time, eyebrows furrowed, as if he’s trying to understand something. Jared feels a blush crawling up his cheeks to the tips of his ears.

“I… I don’t like having people take care of me,” he finally says, raising his legs on the couch to wrap his arms around them. “I’m not nice when that happens. It’s… I hate feeling weak or vulnerable, like right now.”

“I kind of got that.”

“Same thing goes for what happened this morning. The video you watched. It was made a couple of months after my first seizure and I was having a hard time and… I didn’t like you seeing me like that.”  
“I understand.”

“F’course you do. I’m sorry, Jared. This thing between us… it’s important to me too, but I’m not that good at relationships.”

“Well let’s take it one day at a time.”

“You have the right to be mad at me sometimes.”

“Okay.”

“You have to tell me when I’m being an ass.”

“Okay.”

Jensen yawns again and lets his head falls back on the couch. His features are tense from exhaustion, deep creases around his mouth and between his eyebrows. He needs to rest.

“You should take a nap.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Let me help you to your room.”

“Okay.” 

In the bedroom, Jensen undresses to his boxers by himself and sits on the mattress, yawning once again.

“I should get going,” Jared says, although he’s not that enthusiastic about leaving Jensen alone so early after a seizure.

“Ya know,” Jensen drawls, his Texan accent much more obvious than usual, “if you want to stay… I’ll sleep a couple of hours and then maybe we can order something or… Forget it. T’was a stupid idea.”

“It’s a great idea! I only have one condition.”

“Wha’?” Jensen’s eyelids are getting heavier by the second.

“Can I nap with you? Had a shitty day at work. Could use some shut-eye.”

Jensen nods, looking at him with dark eyes, and shifts on the bed to give him some space. Jared undresses quickly and settles next to him. There. He feels better that way, with Jensen close to him, safe, just in case anything happens.

“We can have sex when we wake up,” Jensen slurs, draping himself over Jared’s body.

“We’ll see if you’re up to it. And now, stop talking about sex because we’re almost naked in your bed and I’m kind of turned on.”

Jensen snorts. He’s asleep less than five minutes later and Jared is not so far behind.

He dreams of Jeff.


	6. A New Career in a New Town

It’s Halloween and, for once, it’s not freezing outside. After a long day of work bent over his computer, Jensen is more than happy to get away from it. He’s supposed to spend the evening at Jared’s house, giving out candy. They’d had a really serious debate as to where the kids would be more numerous, in Jensen or Jared’s neighborhood (well, Jared had: this Halloween thing has turned him into a giant kid) and they’d finally decided on Jared’s. 

Jensen goes through his mail, which he’d forgotten to get earlier, while waiting for the cab. An envelope with his address written by hand catches his attention. When he opens it, the only things he finds in it are two tickets for a Kane show on November 18 in Portland. 

“Fuck,” Jensen mumbles, putting the tickets on the table. He doesn’t need Christian’s shit right now. Things had ended badly between the two of them. Chris had never been afraid to speak his mind and tell Jensen what he was thinking. He’d never understood –or never wanted to- why Jensen had left the band, why he wouldn’t play the guitar or sing anymore. The last time they’d seen each other, a couple of weeks before Jensen had left Richardson, they’d had a fight. Last thing Chris had said to him was: “If it weren’t for your damn epilepsy, I would punch you in the face.”

They’ve been best friends since elementary school.

“Nice try, Chris,” Jensen mumbles, refusing to let his memories ruin the evening.

The cab is in the alley. He leaves the tickets on the table.

::: :::

Apparently, Jared taking Halloween seriously is a euphemism. Outside the house are an impressive number of decorations, from false tombstones to pumpkin-shaped lights, paper ghosts hanging on the tree branches and weird creepy noises coming from a small sound system near the entrance. Jared opens the door before Jensen can even think about knocking and, surprise, he’s wearing a costume, a perfect replica of the Wizard of Oz scarecrow, down to the hat and make up.

“You’re a dork,” Jensen states while Jared flashes his teeth.

“That’s not what you’re supposed to say.”

“Jesus.”

“Come on, Jen.”

“Don’t call me Jen.”

“Jen- _sen_.”

“Trick or treat.”

“See? That wasn’t so hard.” Jared gives him one of those giant lollypops with a swirl pattern of rainbow colors. “Happy Halloween.”

“Thanks. Can I come in now?”

“Of course.”

Jared steps back and Jensen can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. “If you only had a brain,” he deadpans, closing the door behind him.

Three hours later, Jensen turns off the outside lights and locks the door. Jared is spent, sprawled out on the sofa, his make-up barely recognizable. His hat is resting on the armrest, the empty bowl of candy on his thighs. He looks like he just came back from trick or treating himself. 

Jensen leans on the doorframe, looking at him thoughtfully. Jared had prepared tons of treats –the better ones –chocolate bars and gummies- the kind you’re always looking for in your Halloween bag when you’re a kid. He’d greeted each kid with the same enthusiasm, complimenting them on their costumes, asking them to do scary faces or to sing silly songs, as if each and every one of them had been equally important to him. Jensen has never met anyone like Jared. He’s amazing.

 _I’m falling in love_ , Jensen thinks. He closes his eyes, lets the realization take a hold of him, making him feel light headed and dizzy.

“Hey, you okay?” Jared asks.

“How many candy bars did you have?”

“You want the exact number or just an approximation?”

Jensen joins him on the couch, presses himself against him. Jared’s body is hot –always, with that light sugary-spicy smell that surrounds him, a bit spicier than sugary tonight. Jared’s eyes immediately lock onto Jensen’s and all he can see in them is affection and the aftermath of Halloween’s excitement.

“Your mouth is green,” Jared says, leaning in to kiss him. His lips are greasy with make-up, have this faint waxy taste to them.

“Let’s make a deal,” Jensen murmurs, inches away from Jared’s face.

“What?”

“Take a shower, and then you can fuck me.”

“That sounds like a good deal,” Jared replies playfully, brushing the knuckles of his hand lightly over Jensen’s crotch. 

Jensen shivers, his still soft cock hardening rapidly. “That’s an excellent deal.”

“You’re so full of it, Jensen Ackles.”

“What? Your cock? Still waiting.”

Jared blushes under his make-up, gets up without another word and heads straight to the bedroom. Jensen bites a big chunk off his lollypop, still smiling. He likes it, surprising Jared with dirty words, showing a more relaxed and self-assured side of himself whenever they get intimate. He feels like it gives him some kind of power, some control over this aspect of his life. It’s like an oasis in a desert of doubt and anxiety, of self-deprecation. 

Jensen goes to take his pills from the small bag he’d brought with him. He has no doubt he’ll spent the night here.

::: :::

“Fuck, what are you doing?” Jared asks, breathless, dropping his towel on the threshold of the bedroom.

He brushes his wet bang away from his face and takes a shuddering breath.

This man is going to kill him.

Jensen is lying on the comforter under the dim yellow light of the nightstand. His knees are raised, exposing his perfect pale bottom. His ass crack is glistening with what is most probably lube. Taking a step forward, he sees the shadow of Jensen’s hole between his cheeks, glistening as well. Jensen shifts a little bit, just to give him a quick view of the pink twitching muscle.

They haven’t had the chance to proceed with this “penetrative sex thing” since last week. They’d done a lot of other really pleasant stuff, true, but Jared would be lying if he denied he was starting to get eager to take this to the next level.

And there is Jensen, surprising him once again, looking at him over his shoulder, cocking an eyebrow. Suddenly, he looks way more like the confident teenager in the home movie.

“Prepared myself,” Jensen says, smiling.

Jared kneels with reverence on the bed, raising his hand but not touching Jensen, not yet. “You found the lube?”

“Brought mine, just in case.”

“Jen…”

“Hey, what did I say about calling me that?”

“Don’t expect me to remember this stuff when I’m facing your ass.”

 

Jensen giggles then throws something behind him. Jared catches it on instinct, not really surprise to find it’s a condom. He tears the wrapping with his teeth and rolls the condom on his swollen shaft, all under Jensen’s watchful eyes.

“Okay,” Jared mumbles, caressing Jensen’s ass cheeks with his hand. “Okay.”

“God, yeah,” Jensen moans, letting his head fall onto his hands on the pillow. He tilts his ass up, and Jared brushes the tip of his fingers over the glistening, puckered skin of his anus. “Yeah, come on, Jared.”

“I want to see you. Turn on your back, please.”

Jensen obeys immediately. His face is already flushed, eyes dark under long lashes. His cock is sticky with precome, resting against his flat stomach. He gives it a light stroke, shivering violently. 

“You’re gorgeous,” Jared rasps, leaning over him. He kisses the pulsing skin of his neck while settling his legs between Jensen’s. The other man caresses his back and flank restlessly, fingers digging into the skin here and there. 

“Come on, please Jared,” he murmurs, parting his legs as wide as they’ll go.

Jared complies. He wraps one of Jensen’s legs around his waist, pushes the other against his stomach and presses the tip of his cock against Jensen’s twitching hole. Jensen moans, pushes back, and Jared snaps forward until he’s buried entirely in Jensen’s tight canal, feeling the muscles fluttering to accommodate him, so hot, so tight around his cock. Jensen breathes deep and loud, moaning between intakes of breath. “Yeah… Fuck. So… feel so full.”

“You okay?”

“Come here.”

Jensen pulls him close, mouth parted, and they kiss, long and hard, as Jensen wraps his legs around Jared’s waist and tilt his ass up to take him deeper, muscles contracting as he does so.

“Need to move,” Jared pants between kisses, a fire burning deep in the pit of his stomach. 

“What are you waiting for?”

Jared smiles and starts moving. And it’s good, it’s everything he’d imagined. It’s better. Jensen moves in rhythm with him, whispering filthy things, encouraging him to go deeper, faster. He’s sweating profusely, breathing hard through his nose, lets out a cry each time Jared’s stomach slides over his hard length. 

Jared can’t hold it back anymore. His orgasm is building too strong, too fast. Jensen seems to sense it because he slides a hand between their bodies and starts to jerk himself off, hard and fast. “Come on,” he breathes. “Let go, Jared. Want you to let go.”

And Jared does, snapping forward with all his strength, eyes closed against the heavy pleasure bursting in him, out of him. He chokes Jensen’s name, hears him, voice syrupy and low. “Yeah, that’s it. I got you, that’s it, baby.”

Jared’s hips jerk one last time, his cock twitching almost painfully as an aftershock sets his pelvis on fire all over again. He lets his head fall onto Jensen’s shoulder, trying to catch his breath. He can feel Jensen’s hand moving rapidly between them.

“Oh. God,” Jensen cries. “So good. Gonna come, Jared. Gonna come so f-freaking h-hard…”

“Love you,” Jared whispers, not sure where it’s coming from, feeling high and crazy in love.

Jensen groans and sobs, his body tensed like a string as he comes messily between them, his hips snapping forward. His inner walls constrict around Jared’s oversensitive dick, and it’s almost enough to make him come again. He strokes Jensen’s chest and hums deep in his throat as the other man keeps shaking and sobbing, riding his orgasm out loud, without restrain.

They lay there, panting, and Jared can feel Jensen’s heart hammering in his chest against his own. He feels stupidly happy and sated, it’s one of those moments where you tell yourself - _there, I wouldn’t trade places with anyone in the whole world_. 

Then, Jensen pushes softly against him.

“You’re kind of crushing me, Jared.”

“Sorry.”

Jared carefully pulls out of Jensen, holding the base of the condom. He takes care of it, gets up to wet a towel and cleans the both of them. Jensen lays still on his back, eyelids heavy and swollen lips quirked into a soft smile.

“That was awesome.”

“Yeah. Let’s get under the covers.”

Jensen groans but shifts slowly onto his side until Jared can pull the comforter over the both of them. They look at each other in silence for a few seconds, then Jared leans in to kiss Jensen.

“Like your mouth. Very much.”

“Really?” Jensen smiles cockily.

“Yeah. Your lip ring… Why didn’t you keep it?”

Jensen sighs, looking serious all of a sudden, but when he speaks, it’s in the same quiet, content voice. “Well, when I had my first episodes, I had to take it off each time they did a head scan or some other exam. And then, I realized that having a metal ring in your lip when you’re having a seizure isn’t that awesome.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“Tore my lip once because of that. It bled like hell. Mack was there and she was terrified. So yeah… No more lip rings.”

“So, the video of you guys playing… It was before your epilepsy started?”

Jensen snorts. “Barely. Had my first seizure five days after the video was taken.”

“Oh.”

Jared doesn’t pry. He’s learning that, with Jensen, it’s better to ask a little something here and there rather than trying to know everything at once. Anyway, there’s time. They have all the time in the world. He stretches his arm over Jensen to turn off the light, smiling in the darkness when he feels the other man settle closer to him then drape one arm and leg over Jared’s body.

“You’re staying, right?”

“M’stayin’,” Jensen whispers. He leans his head on Jared’s chest and sighs. “So… you love me?” he asks in a neutral voice.

Jared tenses. Damn it. He had said he loved him, in the heat of the moment. Hoped Jensen had been too far gone to hear him.

What comes out of his mouth is a weird mix of “yes” and “but” in a very non-manly, high pitched voice. Jensen rises on his elbow. His face is lit by the cold moonlight.

“Hey, it’s okay, don’t freak out.”

“I…” Jared says, because apparently he can’t form complete sentences anymore.

“I might love you a little bit too,” Jensen admits, lowering his eyes. 

“Well, that’s good, right?”

“You have no idea what you do to me Jared.”

“Tell me.”

Jensen laughs low in his throat. “You wish. Now get some sleep.”

Jensen is probably already asleep when Jared murmurs in the darkness. “I love you, Jensen.”

It’s strange. Jared doesn’t even dare call Jensen his boyfriend yet –except in his head, of course, where they’re married and have a couple of kids. Plus a house. And maybe a dog and a cat.

But there he is, saying the words out loud, and it feels so good.

::: :::

It’s Saturday, November eighth, and it’s snowing. Again, Jensen thinks, looking out the window of the Cambio Café, a disgusted look on his face. He wraps his hands tighter around his latte mug and shivers despite the thick wool sweater he’s wearing. The snow melts a few seconds after it falls on the ground, but it will stay, eventually. There is going to be accumulation.

“I like it,” Misha declares, speaking way too loud. He’s got Jensen’s ipod earphones in his ears and nods in rhythm with the music. “What’s it called?”

“Warsawa.”

“What?”

Jensen gently pulls on one of the ear buds. “Warsawa,” he repeats.

“Like Warsaw, the polish city?”

“Yeah. It’s huh… from Low, the first album of what is called Bowie’s Berlin Trilogy. Very experimental. Ahead of its time.”

“And this is your favorite track?”

“No. Actually, it’s Sound and Vision.”

Misha nods seriously and pulls out the other ear bud, smiling this strange smile of his. “I’ll have to listen to it.”

“I can send you the mp3 file if you want.”

“Okay.”

Misha turns his head toward the counter. It’s quiet for a Saturday. The cashier doesn’t seem to be in a rush. He’d sat with Jensen as soon as he settled at his table, like it’s his duty, somehow, to entertain him and keep him company until Jared shows up. Jensen doesn’t mind. He’s slowly getting to know Misha; despite Jared’s warning that he’s eccentric and sometimes downright weird, Jensen feels at ease with him. 

“You know, I once read that eating too many bananas can provoke an epileptic seizure, something to do with the potassium in them. Have you ever had one of those bananas-triggered seizures? I wonder if it’s worse with plantain bananas…”

Okay… That was maybe a little weird. Jensen shrugs. “No. That doesn’t exist.”

“You sure?” Misha frowns, like he’s seriously questioning Jensen’s common sense. 

It’s a relief when Jared chooses that moment to storm inside the café, snowflakes scattered in his hair, his scarf trailing behind him. It’s almost ten thirty by then –he’s half an hour late, not that Jensen is counting time but Jared is always, always early to whatever they do.

He’s also pale and hasn’t shaved –and, yeah, those are sheet imprints on his left cheek.

“Sorry, so sorry I overslept,” he pants, kissing Jensen quickly and trying to sit at the same time, which he succeed in, even if the kiss is a little hard and his chair protests loudly when he lets himself fall on it.

“You overslept?” Misha asks, eyebrows rising.

“Yeah I… Had to go to the center last night and huh… Yeah. Work stuff, boring.” Jared says in a dismissive tone. 

“You should’ve called and stayed put,” Jensen says.

“And miss our…”

“Hour here drinking coffee and doing nothing?”

“Well as long as I’m with you.”

“Okay,” Misha states, getting up. “I’ll get you a coffee, Jay. Try not to drown in schmoop while I’m gone.”

Jared smiles nervously at him. Something is off, and Jensen can’t put his finger on it. He waits for Jared to take off his jacket and get his breathing under control.

“This happen often?”

“What? Me being late? Never.”

“No. You. Working nights.”

Jared shrugs. “No, only where there’s an emergency.”

“What happened?”

Jared jumps in surprise when the waitress puts his coffee in front of him. “I…”

He takes the sugar and puts an indecent amount in his mug. “Remember the woman I told you about? Felicia Day?”

“The one with the little girl, right? Father broke her arm.”

“Yeah, the sick bastard. Turns out-“

Jensen’s cellphone starts ringing at that instant. He curses under his breath and apologizes silently to Jared while opening it, surprised to see Mac’s number on the screen. They’d talked just yesterday night. 

“Hey Mac, what’s going on?” He asks, vaguely worried.

“What’s going on?” His sister’s voice is irritated and high-pitched. “What’s going on is that I’m standing in front of your apartment freezing my ass off.”

“What?”

“Surprise.” Mackenzie deadpans.

 _Surprise_ isn’t even close to what Jensen feels right now.

::: :::

“I didn’t know. Damn it, I had no idea, Jared.”

Jensen fidgets on his seat, apparently unable to stay still. He’s been a nervous wreck even since he’d received Mackenzie’s phone call. As he drives under what looks like the first snowstorm of the season, Jared keeps glancing at him, not sure of what’s going on there.

“Well, it’s a nice surprise, right?” He tries.

“Yeah!” Jensen nods enthusiastically. “I mean, obviously. Haven’t seen her in six months.”

“And what, she just decided to swing by?”

“Apparently.”

“Isn’t she in school?”

“Yeah, but she took the semester off to work on a photography project with some friends.” Jensen sighs, sounding exhausted all of a sudden.

“I didn’t know she studied photography.”

“Oh. Yeah. She does.”

Jensen opens his mouth to say something, but instead, he starts to blink quickly, groaning, and a trickle of saliva slides from the corner of his mouth. It’s an absence, and it’s over in a matter of seconds. Jensen is apparently aware of it since he shakes his head and curses under his breath.

“Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for. Okay, here we are.”

They make it in ten minutes but there isn’t any rush since Jensen had told Mackenzie where his spare key was hidden. Jared stops the car in the alley.

“Well, call me.”

“You… You don’t wanna come inside?” Jensen’s eyes are wide, and Jared could swear he sees his lower lip wobbling for a few seconds.

“Don’t you want to spend some time alone with your sister?”

“Apparently she’s here for the week, so I’ll have plenty of time with her. Come on, Jared. She’s really nice, you’ll like her.”

“Hey, I’m all about meeting her. If you’re sure…”

“Yeah, I am.”

There is an almost pleading expression in Jensen’s eyes, and that’s what decides Jared in the end. Besides, he could use the distraction. He can’t stop thinking about Felicia Day and her little girl. She’d called him last night a few minutes after ten, upset and on the verge of crying. She had just received a call from Stewart’s sister, insulting her and telling her that she would pay for what she’d done to Patrick. She hadn’t been sure if she should call the police or not. Jared had told her to go ahead and call them, but it had been evident she needed support and that’s how he had found himself helping her make her deposition in front of a police officer who had looked bored out of his mind as he told her they couldn’t do much.

Jared knows how it works, is starting to learn about all the fails of the justice system, and he had already guessed approximately what the officer would tell them. He also knew that this kind of incident needed to be reported, if anything could be done later. Felicia didn’t. It had taken a lot of time to get her to calm down after the fact. 

It hadn’t helped that the judge had agreed to hear Stewart’s new demand to be released on parole. Felicia had already been a nervous wreck before she’d received that phone call.

Jared hadn’t been able to fall asleep when he’d gotten back home, not before four in the morning. He just couldn’t get the case out of his head and had finally dozed off in front of a Twilight Zone marathon on TV.

He and Jensen don’t even have time to reach the door before it swings open, revealing a short, thin girl with long blond hair, smiling widely. She has the same big, soulful eyes as Jensen, but in a pale blue color.

“Jay!” She practically screams, landing in his brother’s arms. 

Jensen laughs, presses her against his chest and even raises her a few inches from the ground. She yelps and he puts her down, but not before kissing her loudly on the cheeks.

“Missed you so much,” Mackenzie says in a strangled voice.

“Me too. Hey Mac, this is Jared, my… huh… boyfriend.”

Jared smiles and holds out a hand, which Mackenzie ignores to give him a hug instead.

“Wow. Jay told me you were tall but you’re a giant. And as gorgeous as he said you were.”

Jensen shrugs, blushing. Jared keeps on smiling like it’s glued to his face, and they somehow make their way inside, then into the kitchen, where Mac has already prepared some tea. She seems like a very nice, affectionate girl, full of energy and wit. She prepares three cups of tea as if she was the one welcoming them in her home and keeps talking at a quick pace about the bad weather and her horrible flight.

Jensen is still nervous, although he looks really happy to see his sister. He has to wait until she sits down with them to get her to stop talking for one second so he can ask what she’s doing here.

She kind of freezes, her cup raised to her mouth, and smiles at her brother with a strange look in her eyes.

“Well, you wouldn’t invite me so…”

“That’s not what I said,” Jensen snaps, and tension suddenly fills the room. “I just said I had a lot of work to do.”

“Yeah and the month before, and the month before that,” Mac replies, then quickly smiles and pats Jensen on the hand. “Don’t worry, just doing my pain-in-the-ass-little-sister job.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” Jensen whispers.

Tension gradually fades away as Mackenzie asks Jared questions about his job and the town of York and is Jensen a good boyfriend or what? Jared relaxes slowly, unable to resist Mac’s contagious enthusiasm.

Jensen listens to them, only adding a word here and there. He keeps his tea cup in his hands without drinking it. Then, as silence returns, he asks, eyes lowered on his hand, “So, how are mom and dad?”

Mackenzie’s body tenses a bit. She frowns. “They’re good. Given the circumstances.”

“Don’t give me that shit,” Jensen mumbles, so harshly Jared is startled. Literally.

“Then don’t ask,” Mac replies.

She smiles at Jared. “Want some more tea?”

“I think I should get going,” Jared replies, not waiting for an answer to rise to his feet.

“Fuck I’m sorry,” Jensen says immediately, getting up too. His face is red and he looks like he’s having trouble breathing. “I’m sorry, Jared, for making this so awkward for you. There’s no need-”

“He’s right,” Mackenzie says without turning her eyes away from her brother. “Jay?”

Jensen shakes his head and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “M’okay,” he rasps.

“Nuh-uh. No you’re not. Maybe you should sit down.” She already has him by the arm. “Can you make it to the living room?”

“Yeah.”

Mac takes him carefully with her, Jared trailing behind them, feeling misplaced and intruding and clumsy. The young woman doesn’t look unsettled in the least by the situation. She sits Jensen on the couch and keeps repeating his name.

“Still with me, Jay?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Okay, it’s okay. Feel it coming?”

“Uh-huh.”

Jensen takes a look at Jared. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“Hey, don’t.”

Jared crouches near the couch and makes himself as small as possible, not wanting to interfere with Mackenzie who’s apparently in charge of the situation, which makes a lot of sense since she must have witnessed dozens of seizures. She’s crouching too, now, her hands on Jensen’s knees.

“Is your Valium in the fridge?” She asks slowly.

Jensen shakes his head almost violently, then he suddenly bends forward and groans –a long and low sound that shakes his upper body. He seems locked into this position, even though he’s fighting it. A trickle of saliva drips from his chin to fall on Mackenzie’s hand.

“It’s okay, you’re alright,” she whispers, running her fingers through Jensen’s hair.

Jensen moans at that, then is shaken by a strange shiver, like he’s struggling with his body’s independent will.

“Is he in pain?” Jared asks in a very low voice.

“Well… Those… Those aren’t really pleasant, and he’s feeling all of it since he’s still conscious.” Mac tells him without turning her head away from Jensen.

“It’s a partial one, right?”

“So far.”

Jensen’s upper body seems to relax suddenly and he raises his head, taking a long, shuddering gulp of air, eyes wild with fear and full of unshed tears.

“You’re okay,” Mac repeats, rising to her knees. “Jay? You coming back now?”

Jensen looks at her and opens his mouth without making a sound. His face then quirks into a grimace and another long moan escapes his throat. Mac has one hand on his neck, the other gently resting on his chest. “Take it easy. Everything’s okay. Try to relax. It’s almost over now.”

Jensen blinks at her, tilts his head to the side and lets out a hiccupping sigh. “T’s’over,” he mumbles very slowly.

“Good.”

Mac pushes on his chest until Jensen’s back is leaning against the couch. He raises shaking hands to his face and rubs at his eyes with these slow and clumsy motions he always has after a seizure.

“Do you feel sick?” Mackenzie asks.

“No, m’fine. Just thirsty,” Jensen whispers, keeping his eyes closed.

“I’ll get you some water,” Jared exclaims, eager to feel useful, but Mackenzie has already gotten to her feet. She smiles at him.

“No, stay with Jay. I’ll get it.” 

And then she’s gone. Jensen’s eyes open to slits. He chews on his bottom lip. “So, what do you think? I bet you regret getting out of bed now.”

“Hey, don’t say that. It’s not your fault.”

Jared gets up and bends over him, kissing his forehead. “You need to rest, and to be with your sister. I’m going to go now. Just call me if you need anything.”

Jensen nods. Jared strokes his cheek softly and stops by the kitchen on his way out. Mackenzie seems to be looking for something in the fridge.

“I’m heading back home,” he tells her. 

Mackenzie raises her head and smiles distractedly at him.

“Okay. Guess we’ll have more occasions to get to know each other.”

“I hope so. Hey… what was it about Jensen’s Valium in the fridge?”

“It’s his emergency medication, you know… If the seizure doesn’t stop by-“

Mackenzie freezes mid-sentence and shakes her head slowly. “You don’t know about it, do you?”

“I… no.”

“Jesus!” she snarls. “How can he be so freaking careless!”

“What?”

“I…” Mackenzie bites her bottom lip, looking a lot like Jensen in that moment. “It’s not my place to tell you. Why don’t you ask Jensen?”

“I will,” Jared states, confused. “Later.”

When he leaves the house a couple of minutes later, he still doesn’t have a clue as to what had just happened. The snow has shifted into a cold and heavy rain. Jared feels as gray and heavy as the sky above him.

::: :::

Jensen doesn’t call until Sunday. Jared is at Misha’s place, sharing some Thai take-out with him for dinner. They’re lazily sprawled on the couch, watching a movie Jensen has recommended to Misha. The Man who Fell to Earth, a film from the seventies where Bowie plays an alien who comes to earth to save his dying planet. Sort of. 

“This is so weird,” Jared mumbles around a mouthful of noodles.

“I don’t know. I like it,” Misha replies.

“Why doesn’t that surprise me.”

Jared hasn’t been able to cheer himself up since the morning before. It’s like there is a dark cloud hovering over him that just won’t leave. Misha had said he was over reacting. So what, Jensen and his sister have some issues? Families are all about issues. That’s his theory. It’s not really comforting, if you ask Jared. 

Bowie is currently fainting in an elevator when Jared’s cell rings. He answers before the first ring is over under Misha’s raised eyebrows, relieved to see Jensen’s name on the phone screen.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Jared. Am I bothering you?”

“No! Not at all. How are you doing?”

“Good. I’m doing good. Do you feel like doing something tonight?”

“Of course.”

Jensen lets out a nervous laugh. “Great. That’s… great. Want me to come over?”

“What about your sister?”

“She’s meeting some friends in Portland for her photography project.”

“Okay. I’m at Misha’s place. I’ll come by to get you.”

“Well, if you were doing something with-“

“No! We weren’t doing anything. Anything at all.”

Misha snatches Jared’s noodle box from his hand and sticks out his tongue at him.

::: :::

They’re still catching their breath. The room smells of sex and sweat. Jensen is sprawled over Jared’s body, has barely moved while Jared was getting rid of the condom and cleaning the both of them with his discarded t-shirt. 

As soon as they had entered the house, Jensen had plastered himself against Jared and had whispered into his ear, “Wanna ride you. Hard and fast.”

That’s exactly what he’d done, intense and serious, like he’d wanted to take from Jared whatever he needed without really caring about him, making him feel used in the dirtiest way.

And now, he’s still silent. Quiet. His head is resting in the crook of Jared’s neck and he’s stroking his chest lazily.

“I’m sorry for the little family drama yesterday,” he whispers after a while of just lying there, as they enjoy each other’s proximity.

“No, it’s okay. Were you alright after your seizure?”

“Uh-huh.”

Jensen trails the tip of his finger on Jared’s stomach, softly circling the rim of his navel. “…Enough alright to endure my sister’s lecture.” He adds.

“She was worried.”

“F’course she was. Everyone is so fucking worried about me all the time.” Jensen snaps.

“Well-”

“No, it’s… God I can be such a jerk sometimes.”

Jensen sighs and rises on one elbow, leaning his head on his palm. His eyes are dark and shining with uncertainty. “When I left Richardson, it was… Things didn’t go too well between my family and me.”

“Oh.”

“I needed a new start. Things had been rough after I broke up with Matt and I… felt like I was choking. It’s… I couldn’t stand the constant attention and concern anymore. My freaking epilepsy had acted out and my parents were constantly all over me and I just couldn’t take it anymore.”

“I can understand that.”

Jensen smiles without a hint of real amusement. “Apparently they couldn’t. I’d never been truly independent since my epilepsy started and I needed it, so much. They were worried I would be alone, worried something could happen to me. Even some of my friends… Anyway, that’s how things were when I left. That’s how things still are.”

“Jesus,” Jared murmurs, because he can’t really get why Jensen’s family would deny him such a basic need. Hell, if you asked him, he thinks it’s pretty courageous, what Jensen has done. “They’ll come around eventually,” he says, stroking Jensen’s messy hair.

“I’m not so sure. Mac and me, we were pretty close. Still are. She’s amazing and I miss her very much since I left. I don’t want you to have a bad opinion of her just because of what happened, or what I just told you.”

“I won’t.”

“Anyway, we came to an arrangement,” Jensen adds, smiling a little more sincerely this time. “There will be no more mention of me leaving Texas for this cold and far away region for the remainder of her visit.”

“That’s good, right?”

“It is,” Jensen rasps, leaning in to kiss Jared, a soft and altogether too short brush of his lips.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Jared says as he feels his bad mood finally lifting up. They’re good. 

Everything’s good.


	7. Under Pressure

Jared gets to know Mackenzie better over the course of the week. Apparently, the truce between Jensen and her is working and Jared discovers a more relaxed, playful side of his boyfriend. Mac is almost constantly taking pictures with her big ugly camera, a hybrid between digital and traditional, the flash blinding them at the most unexpected moments. Jensen seems used to it and whenever his sister stares at him through her lens for too long, he gives her the finger. As for Jared, it makes him nervous and he keeps smiling stupidly, just in case. After three days, the muscles of his face are sore. 

On Thursday night, November the tenth, Jared, Jensen and Mackenzie spend a couple of hours at the Cambio Café with Misha and Victoria as a small goodbye party for the young woman who’s flying back to Texas the day after. They eat their fair share of pastries and drink way too much coffee over the course of the evening and, at some point, they’re separated into two groups, one formed of Jensen and Vicky who’s very cerebrally explaining to him the social history of the threesome. Jensen listens to her, mouth half-opened, a pink blush tainting his cheeks. On the other side of the two tables they’ve joined together, Misha is telling Mac the story of how he and Jared, with a handful of friends, had raised some funds and spent one month in a Malawi village building a well –the highlight of the story being, of course, how Jared had caught some local enteritis and spent three days sleeping on the ground next to the very old toilet built in the backwoods of the village.

Mac is laughing almost hysterically by the end of it. Misha grins at Jared and gets up to prepare more coffee. After Mackenzie’s laughter has gradually died, she looks at Jared, smiling widely.

“Your friends are awesome,” she says. “I’m glad Jay has some people around him.”

Jared shrugs, dosed up on caffeine and sugar, looking at how Jensen’s eyes widen in the most comical way at something Vicky is telling him. He’s the one who’s glad, he thinks, that Jensen will allow him to be part of his life. He doesn’t say it, but he supposes it’s written all over his face because Mackenzie says “awww” and pats his hand with affection.

“He’s so reserved and withdrawn when he’s around people,” Mackenzie goes on. “The job he’s got is great, but working from home isn’t the easiest way to meet people. We were all worried when he decided to move away from Richardson, you know.”

“Yeah, he told me a little about it.”

Mackenzie smiles into her empty coffee mug. “But hey, maybe he was right. Maybe this was something he needed to do.”

“I think he’s amazing.”

“Well, you’re head over heels in love with him so you’re hardly unbiased, but yeah, he’s kind of amazing.”

She looks at Jared from under her long lashes and bites her bottom lip. “Things were bad for him after his break up with Matt,” she whispers to be sure only Jared can hear her. “He had a very bad seizure and he couldn’t be left alone. He was frustrated all the time. He stopped seeing his friends, quit school two semesters before graduating in English literature at the university. Sometimes I thought he’d never get over it. I was scared for him.”

“He told me the break-up was bad but I didn’t know how hard it was on him.”

“Well, it wasn’t just the break-up. He’s the one who ended things. The epilepsy, on the other hand… I don’t know how I would deal if I were him.”

“I don’t know either,” Jared says, still looking at Jensen who’s speaking to Vicky in a soft, low voice. “It’s a burden.”

“Yes. It is. Freaking debilitating disease,” Mackenzie growls. “Hey, Jared?”

“Mmm?”

“Remember when I was looking for Valium in the fridge?”

“Yeah I… What was that about?”

“Jensen told you that if a seizure doesn’t stop after five minutes, you have to-“

“Call an ambulance, yeah.”

“Well, there’s something else you can do. At the hospital, sometimes, the doctors use sedatives to stop the seizure and give the body some rest. Valium is often used and epileptics can keep some at home, so it can be administrated to them while waiting for the ambulance.”

“Is it an injection? Should I learn how to do it?”

“That’s the thing. It’s dangerous, and almost impossible, to give an injection to someone having convolutions. So it comes in an intra-rectal solution.”

“What?”

“A suppository. And I’m guessing that’s why Jay didn’t tell you about it.”

“Oh.”

“That’s why it has to be kept in the fridge. Temperature changes can mess with the med’s composition. Now, Jensen didn’t have any when I looked but we made this deal. If I left the whole Leaving-Texas situation alone, he would get a new prescription for it. He did. And I know it’s very humiliating for him to explain to you how to shove a freaking suppository up his ass, his words, not mine. That’s why I’m telling you this. He doesn’t even have to know you know. If you need them, they’re in the butter compartment.”

“And how exactly do I use it? Is there a method, does it-“

Jared’s nervous. And concerned. Mac cuts him off, laughing.

“It’s a suppository. Can’t get any simpler than that. You just make sure it stays where it’s supposed to be for a couple of minutes, if you know what I mean.”

“I see.” Jared blushes and feels stupid and immature, being embarrassed about something that could help Jensen.

“…And, you know… There are four of them so if Jensen spends some time at your place, it would maybe be a good idea to steal one and keep it at your home.”

“Okay.”

“I have a surprise for you,” Mackenzie changes the subject quickly, looking relieved. She rummages through her gigantic purse and takes out a 5x7 photo protected by a simple black frame. 

It’s one of the numerous shots she’d taken over the week. It’s a close up of Jensen and him. Jared immediately recognizes when it was taken. Wednesday night, at Jensen’s place. They’d been watching a Peter Sellers movie, an Ackles family tradition, apparently, since both Jensen and his sister had known the dialogue by heart. In the picture, Jared and Jensen weren’t looking at the camera –and it’s a relief to see that Jared isn’t smiling stupidly, scared to be caught off-guard. There’s a slight smile on Jensen’s lips, his hair is tousled and his lips shiny –they’ve been stuffing themselves with fuzzy peaches and gummy bears. He’s resting against Jared’s chest, his head in the crook of his neck. Jared’s chin is resting on the top of his head. He himself seems serious and somehow thoughtful. Objectively, he looks good. 

The colors of the photos are amazing, vivid, with a predominance of green and blue. Mackenzie has done an amazing job with the contrast and light. It looks like a professional picture, but the sense of intimacy remains.

“It’s beautiful,” Jared states, amazement clear in his voice. “Thank you so much.”

Mackenzie blushes and shrugs. “Well, you know. I’m trying.”

She raises her head as Misha comes over to them with a pot full of steaming coffee, some cream and sugar. 

“Don’t give up on him,” she tells Jared while Misha sets everything on the table. 

“Jensen?”

“He can be difficult, sometimes, but his life hasn’t been easy, you know.”

“I have no intention of letting him go.” Jared answers with sincerity.

Like… ever.

Misha sits back and Mackenzie excuses herself to go to the bathroom. In the other corner, Victoria is drawing something on a napkin while Jensen frowns, confusion written all over his face, visibly trying to make sense of it.

“So,” Misha asks, pouring Jared another cup. “What were you guys talking about?”

“You know… Love, photography and suppositories.”

Misha doesn’t even blink. “Speaking of suppositories, did I ever tell you about that one time I went out with this girl and-“

“Mish? I don’t wanna know.”

::: :::

Jared volunteers to drive Mackenzie back to the airport the next morning. She has to be there at six in the morning. Jared is usually a morning person but the amount of coffee he has had keeps him from falling asleep until two in the morning. So, when he pulls up in front of Jensen’s apartment in time to pick her up, he’s not even sure he’s awake yet. Jensen and Mac don’t look much better. Jensen carries Mackenzie’s bags, walking at an unsteady pace and yawning helplessly. Mackenzie follows, her scarf hiding half of her face, hair still wet.

Jared extricates himself from the car and helps Jensen with the bags. The younger man groans as a way of saying “hi.” 

“I mean, seriously? How can people stand living in a place so freaking cold,” he mumbles, and quickly enters the car, settling in the passenger seat.

“How is it possible to have a hangover from too much coffee?” Mackenzie adds, looking as grumpy as her brother. 

Jared nods in sympathy and opens her door.

“Why, thank you sir,” she says, getting inside. Then adds, “I’m serious. Thank you for taking me to the airport.”

“No problem.”

Jensen complains the first five minutes of the ride because it’s cold, and it’s probably going to snow again, and he forgot to bring his glasses and his eyes hurt, and the human body isn’t made to be awake when the sun isn’t even up yet. Jared has never seen him so grumpy and he feels like patting him on the cheeks and telling him how adorable he looks. 

He doesn’t, of course.

“Hey, drama queen,” Mackenzie calls from the back seat. “We get it. You’re not a morning person. You didn’t have to come, you know.”

“Come on. It was the polite thing to do.”

“Ain’t that great,” Jared’s sarcastic voice isn’t that sarcastic at five thirty in the morning.

“T’s’not what I meant,” he protests without much conviction.

“Jay, go to sleep,” Mac says, hitting the back of the passenger seat with her knee.

“Is the heater turned up to the max?” Jensen whines.

“Yes. It is. Mac’s right, go back to sleep.”

It takes approximately five more minutes before Jensen is asleep, all tucked up in his winter coat, his knitted hat sitting low on his head, still frowning and looking annoyed. 

Jared smiles fondly at him. In the backseat, Mackenzie looks out the window, eyelids heavy, and Jared turns the radio to a news channel, keeping it at a low volume. They’re ten minutes away from the airport when Mac gently taps on Jared’s shoulders.

“Still out like a light?” She asks, nodding toward Jensen.

“Yeah.”

Jensen’s head is resting on his left shoulder and he’s snoring softly, a small rivulet of saliva sliding very slowly from the left corner of his mouth. 

“I found the tickets to the Kane concert,” Mac continues.

“What concert?”

“Chris and Steve’s concert. Jensen told me he was going to take you next Friday.”

“He never said anything about a concert.”

“Oh, shit. Hope I didn’t ruined any surprise,” Mackenzie grumbles. 

“Wait. Chris and Steve. Didn’t those guys play in Jensen’s band when they were younger?”

“You know about Jensen Ackles and the Spiders?” Mac sounds fairly surprised.

“Yeah, he showed me something you filmed yourself.”

“Whoa. He must be all sorts of crazy for you if he showed you that dvd.”

“You were adorable,” Jared says while he feels stupidly proud of having Jensen “all sorts of crazy” for him.

“I was a little pest, but hey, if that comes off as adorable, great,” Mackenzie jokes. 

“So, are those the same guys?”

“Yeah. Of course now they play with other people, have this rock country sound that’s really cool. You’ll like them.”

“Why did Jensen stopped playing?” Jared asks, glancing quickly at his boyfriend to make sure he’s still sleeping.

“He tried to keep on,” Mac whispers thoughtfully, “but it got too difficult, with the epilepsy. After a while he quit the band, but he kept studying music in college. Then, one day, he just stopped. He never had much fun with the theory or playing on his own. He said he was a band musician, not a teacher or a music writer. Switched to the literature program after that.”

“That… That’s sad.”

“Yeah. It is. Hey, I know it would take a lot of persuasion, but you have to get him to play the guitar for you. He’s a terrific musician.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

The sun is barely up when Jared arrives at the airport. An orangey light is shimmering over everything, playing with the shadows as dark blue clouds move quickly across the sky. Jared blinks, looks at how the light plays on Jensen’s face, sharpening his delicate features.

“Don’t wake him up,” Mackenzie tells him. “He needs his sleep. Just leaves me at the entrance. You’ve been kind enough to drive me here.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Just make sure he doesn’t forget to take his meds. It was too early when we left home.”

“A couple of hours can make a difference?”

“Yes.”

“God, it sucks.”

“Yes. It does.”

Jared drives slowly to the main entrance and helps Mackenzie get her bags out and sets them on a carrier. They look at each other trapped in this awkward moment where it’s time to say goodbye. The young woman kisses Jared on the cheek, shivering from the cold. “It was really nice meeting you. Hope you’ll visit us in Texas soon.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

They hug each other, then Mackenzie’s gone, her long blond hair caught in the wind as she walks through the sliding doors.

Jensen doesn’t wake up until they’re back at his apartment, and even then, it takes Jared quite some time to get him to open his eyes. He blinks at Jared in confusion, then stirs, and there is something sexy in the ways he tries to find the space to stretch in the confines of the car.

“We’re back,” he states, voice gruff from sleep. “Why didn’t you guys wake me up?”

“Mac insisted that you needed your beauty sleep.”

“Shut up,” Jensen smiles lightly. 

“And I have to remind you to take your meds.”

Jensen rolls his eyes and licks his lips. Jared fiddles with the wheel, looking at his watch. It’s not even seven o’clock.

“Hey, I don’t have to be at work for another two hours.”

“Yeah,” Jensen says slowly. “Oh. Wanna come in, have a cup of coffee?”

“Well, I definitely want to come in.”

Jared bends forward and kisses Jensen, startling him. In a matter of seconds, Jensen melts into it and shoves his tongue in Jared’s mouth, needy and demanding. When they break off the kiss, they’re both panting, windows of the car covered in fog.

“Oh. You want to come in for _sex,_ ” Jensen says in a false surprised tone. Crinkles appear at the corner of his eyes.

“Uh-huh.”

“Well that’s good, because I’ve been thinking about sucking you ever since I woke up this morning.”

“Jesus, Jensen!”

Jensen grins.

He’s still grinning a few minutes later when he slowly undresses in front of Jared who’s already naked on the bed. Jensen’s putting up a show just for him, fingers on his cock, stroking it softly as his other hand trails down his pale chest, brushing over each nipple. Jensen shivers, grips his cock more firmly and keeps on stroking until Jared can’t help himself anymore. He’s on his back, raised on his elbows so as not to miss anything, his cock painfully hard resting hot and heavy on his stomach.

“Come here,” he pleads, and Jensen complies immediately, getting on his knees on the bed, settling between Jared’s parted legs. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Jared,” he murmurs, stroking Jared’s thighs. “Wanna suck you, swallow you deep.”

“Do it,” Jared squeaks –yes, he squeaks, but lucky for him, Jensen is too busy bending down and licking the head of his cock to notice.

Jared loses time as Jensen’s lips slide down on his cock. It’s like an eternity is contained in a blissful second and he comes way too soon for his liking, moaning and biting his lips, all the pleasure exploding from his tight sac and coursing over his perineum and the sensitive muscle of his anus, which Jensen strokes lightly. Before his eyes shut with the power of his orgasm, he has the time to see Jensen’s throat working as he swallows his load and his cock jerks one last time.

Jared’s head falls back on the bed. He tries to catch his breath, moaning. “Shit. Jensen, god. You’re gonna kill me.”

“Uhn…”

Jared opens his eyes, eyelids feeling as heavy as lead. Jensen is sitting back on his heels, one hand cupping his balls, the other jacking his cock frantically, a loud slapping noise filling the room, accompanied by Jensen’s groans and pants. His head is tilted back and his mouth open slack, like he’s giving himself completely to the pleasure of the moment he’s living right there, right now. A pink blush darkens the skin of his chest which glistens with sweat.

Jared moans and sits to help him finish, can’t keep his hand away from him for another second, but Jensen’s body locks before he can do anything. A couple more unsteady strokes and his back bows gracefully. A long whine escapes his pursed lips and he comes long and hard over his hand and stomach.

“God. Jensen.”

Eyes still closed, panting harshly, Jensen falls on his side on the bed. “Whoa,” he groans. “That was…”

“Yeah,” Jared agrees, twisting on the bed until he’s lying next to him. “…And now, I have to get up and freaking go to work.”

He does, he really does. But Jensen’s warm and smells so damn good and the curtains of the room are closed, keeping them in a soft darkness.

Just five more minutes.

::: :::

“Jared? Jare? Fuck, come on, man, wake up!”

Jared groans and blinks. Weren’t the curtains closed? Why is the light so…?

“Fuck,” he groans, sitting abruptly. 

Jensen is standing at the foot of the bed, pulling up his jeans by jumping from one foot to the other.

“What time is it?” Jared mumbles, rubbing at his eyes.

“Eleven thirty. Gotta be at the university in half an hour.”

“Shit.”

Jared stands up and gathers his clothes, almost bumping into Jensen who’s pulling a t-shirt over his head. “I was supposed to help a client find an apartment. Shit!”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Jen,” Jared mumbles. He dresses himself as quickly as he can, finds out that his cell isn’t in his jeans pocket. 

The car. He’d left it in the car. Better call Heather from there. He’s two hours late already.

“Damn it. Took me everything to convince her that she was ready,” he says, sitting back on the bed.

Jensen doesn’t answer him. He’s rummaging through his closet, cursing every other second. “Where’s that damn shirt!”

“Hey, relax. I’ll get you there if you need a ride.”

Jensen freezes on his spot, looking like he’s suddenly remembered Jared’s presence. “No, no. It’s okay. You’re late too…. You go do your thing, don’t mind me.”

“Hey, it’s too late for me anyway. I can drop you off.”

But Jensen doesn’t hear him. He finds a navy blue button-up shirt and fights with the hanger to take it off, then he freezes again. “I didn’t take my meds. Fuck!”

Jensen all but runs to the kitchen, Jared on his heels. 

“Is it bad?”

“What?”

“When do you usually take them?”

“Between eight and nine. It’s gonna be okay. And I need to get going. Now.”

He walks back toward the bedroom and shouts from there. “Would you call me a cab?”

Jared isn’t going to call a cab. He’ll drive Jensen himself. He doesn’t like the way he looks, nervous and agitated, wonders if being two hours late with his pills is as serious as it seems. One way or another, he doesn’t want Jensen to be alone with a cab driver if anything is about to happen.

… Or maybe he’s overreacting. Maybe Jensen’s just in a pissy mood because he doesn’t like being late. 

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Jensen growls.

…Yeah. Maybe he _really_ doesn’t like being late.

“There’s a button missing,” Jensen tells Jared as he comes back to the bedroom. “There is a freaking button missing on my only clean shirt!”

“Hey, calm down. It’s a meeting, Jensen. Nobody’s dying. I’m sure you can find something else.”

“It’s not just a meeting!” Jensen shouts back at him with surprising vehemence. “You don’t get it! I freaking fought for this job, to be able to do it at home, had to have my neurologist tell them that it was easier for me that way. They… The head of the literature department, Morisson, he’s an asshole. He’s just waiting for an excuse to fire me, always looking at me like I’m a freaking retard or something and-“

“Jensen.”

“I have a meeting once a week with the department staff and if I’m late he’s going to jump on that to-“

Jensen stops speaking all of sudden. He blinks at Jared, shaking his head, and runs his fingers through his mussed hair. “Geez, I’m sorry. It’s not your damn fault.”

“Hey. Bad morning, that’s all. Why don’t-“

“Jared.” 

Jensen’s face turns white as Jared’s looking at him. He sways on his feet.

“Jen?”

“I don’t feel good,” Jensen announces and collapses on the ground, falling flat on his ass, like he’s drunk.

“Shit, Jensen?” Jared crouches next to him, his heart beating loud and hard in his ears.

“I need… get my Ativan.”

“What?”

M-m-my,” Jensen stutters.

“What? Is that the med in the fridge? Is that what you need?”

“Wha’ you taking ‘bout?” Jensen slurs. “N-no, sss’not.”

Then his eyes roll back in his head as his jaw clenches suddenly, his body starts to tense, back bowing, and Jared catches him just before his head hits the hard wooden floor. He can’t hold him in his arms: Jensen’s body is too tense, fighting against Jared’s embrace, and his back keeps bowing back, reminding Jared of the gracious movement a few hours before as Jensen was reaching his orgasm, so beautiful and graceful.

Jared’s stomach clenches, and he fights the urge to heave as he lays Jensen on the floor as carefully as he can. For a few seconds, Jensen’s heels and head are the only connecting point to the floor. His arms are raised in front of him, fingers clenched into claws like he’s trying to do a bad zombie impersonation.

“Shit,” Jared murmurs, realizing he didn’t look at his watch. There. Now. Eleven thirty eight. It’s…

A sudden groan brings his attention back to Jensen as his body jerks violently, twisting on the floor. The convolutions hit hard and are stronger than what Jared remembers. 

_Okay. Valium in the fridge. Butter compartment. Five minutes_

Jensen’s left foot keeps hitting the foot of the bed. Jared tries to shift his body a little but Jensen’s right hand hits him hard in the stomach and he loses his balance, falling back on his ass. He sees blood mixed with saliva dripping on Jensen’s chin. His throat works in rhythm with the convulsions, letting out a strange kind of swallowing sound. Jared gets back on his knees and tries again to get Jensen onto his left side, succeeding this time. His mouth drops open and more saliva and blood –a lot more, drips on the floor. 

“Fuck, Jen,” Jared moans, looking at his watch. It’s almost eleven forty now. He hates feeling so helpless. He can’t help but think about how wrong it feels to just stand here, looking at Jensen, hurt and in pain, and not do anything more than check his watch. Jared isn’t used to sitting and watching, never has been.

There’s always something that can be done, to help, to sooth, to bring people some sort of relief. And it’s his job to-

_Nobody ever asked you to save the world, Jared._

No, not now. He doesn’t want to think about that now. 

Jared shakes his head and gets closer to Jensen. The convolutions have started to lose some intensity. Jensen’s eyes aren’t rolled back in his head, but closed tight. His limbs jerk irregularly, like an aftershock. It’s only then that Jared notices the dark stain in the front of Jensen’s crouch and on the inside of his thighs. The smell of sweat and urine hits his nostrils strongly. 

He remembers reading about this possibility when he was looking up some info about epilepsy on the web. When having a general seizure, patients often loses control of their bladder. Jared never mentioned it to Jensen because… Yeah. Because.

Jensen’s body finally goes limp. It’s eleven forty one on Jared’s watch. He grabs a blanket and a pillow from the bed, then a discarded t-shirt from the floor. Jensen looks like he’s sleeping, taking long, deep breathes. Jared wipes the blood and saliva off his face and puts the pillow under his head. Jensen sighs and frowns but remains unconscious. Jared covers him with the comforter and sits near him, brushing his hair away from his forehead.

“Come on, Jensen. Come back,” he whispers nervously. 

Jensen frowns again, longer this time. Jared keeps stroking his hair, whispering soothing words that don’t make any sense. A thought suddenly occurs to him, about the five-minute rule. Does he have to count the time Jensen remains unconscious after the seizure, because there, it’s already been more than five minutes. It’s eleven forty-five already.

“Jensen? Come on, man.” He says with more conviction, shaking him lightly.

Jensen moans. His eyes open slowly.

“Yeah, come on, that’s it,” Jared coaxes. “You coming back, Jensen?”

Jensen shakes his head, wincing. His eyes open wide and he looks at Jared like he’s seeing him for the first time and is not really happy about it. He tries to rise on his elbows, but he’s shaking and his movements are uncoordinated. “Take it easy,” Jared says, trying to get him to stay still. Jensen tries to push him back, mumbles something that sounds like “fuck off” before he falls back on his side, moaning as the side of his head it’s the floor. Jared waits for the confusion to disappear from his eyes, careful not to touch him. Jensen seems to fight to stay awake and to understand what is going on. It’s hard to watch him so lost and confused, unable to do more than move his head slowly from left to right.

“It’s okay, Jensen. You just had a seizure. I got you,” Jared murmurs, trying once again to touch him, laying his hand lightly on the man’s chest.

This time, Jensen doesn’t push him away. He winces, let out a shuddering sigh, and his eyes seem to become clearer.

“Jared,” he mumbles.

“Yeah, it’s me, man. You’re okay. Take it easy.” Jared repeats.

Jensen raises his head and looks around him, then lets it drop back on the pillow. He drags a shaking hand over his face. “Fuck,” he rasps.

“How you’ feeling?”

“Gonna be sick,” Jensen announces, face turning white and covered in a new film of sweat.

There’s no time to grab something, even less to drag Jensen to the bathroom. All Jared can do is pulling him in a half sitting position, body turned to the side so he won’t throw up on himself. Jensen’s shaken by a violent spasm and throws up on the floor next to him, choking and coughing until there’s nothing left to come out except stomach juice and bile. He’s panting and short of breath, features tensed in a grimace of pain. Jared rubs his back and grabs the t-shirt he used before to clean him up.

“Hey Jen?”

“Hun…”

“I’m going to get you in your bed, okay?”

“Jus… Gimme a minute. Can go by m’self.”

“No, it’s okay, I can do it. Do you hurt somewhere?”

“Freaking everywhere.”

“Just tell me if I make it worse.”

Jared is strong, he knows, but even if he hadn’t been, he figures he could carry his boyfriend simply due to the adrenaline rush he’s still riding. He rises on his knees and gathers Jensen in his arms. The other man tries to help, but he can’t do more than slide his arms around Jared’s neck.

“Okay, here we go,” Jared says, standing up as he feels the burn in the muscles of his legs and arms. He walks toward the bed and lays Jensen down as gently as he can.

“M’sorry,” Jensen murmurs, looking away.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for. Listen, Jensen. I have to call work. Want me to call the literature department for you. I know it sucks, but maybe it’s better to give them the reason why you’re not there?”

“Yeah,” Jensen agrees, to Jared’s surprise. “Number is on speed dial on my cell.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Jensen sighs and closes his eyes.

In the kitchen, Jared calls Gen, a colleague social worker, who doesn’t mind taking over for him. He then speaks to Morisson’s secretary, explaining Jensen’s absence. She seems very compassionate, sends Jensen her best wishes and to take care of himself. That’s somewhat reassuring to Jared, knowing that even if Morrisson is an asshole, some of Jensen’s colleagues seem to care genuinely for him.

He gets back to Jensen’s room and starts by opening the window. He has to clean up the vomit before the smell sticks in the room.

Jensen is still lying on his back. His cheeks are burning red and he’s trying to open the button of his jeans with unsteady fingers.

Then Jared remembers the wet spot on his jeans, and realizes that Jensen hasjust realized what happened.

“Hey… Jensen. I’ll help you. Let me…”

Jensen closes his eyes, his lower lip quivering as if he’s about to burst into tears.

“No, I… You can… I can deal with this. Y-you should go.”

“What are you talking about? I’m not going to leave you like this.”

“I freaking peed myself, Jared!” Jensen shouts.

“It’s okay, I don’t care. Just… let me help you. You can’t even stand up on your own, Jensen.”

Jensen’s cheeks get even redder. He puts his arm over his face and doesn’t say a word as Jared carefully pulls down his wet jeans and boxers. Because he’s being exposed to the air, Jensen shivers violently, teeth chattering.

“What do you wanna do?” Jared asks. “I can get you a warm washcloth or would you prefer a bath?”

“Give me five minutes,” Jensen says, his voice empty of any emotion. “I’ll take a bath then.”

 

He is very careful not to look at Jared as he grabs the discarded comforter and pulls it over himself, dragging it slowly as if it weights a ton. The humiliation is clearly visible on his face. It breaks Jared’s heart, makes him want to make it disappear with a kiss and a few comforting words, but he knows Jensen won’t accept it. Not for now.

“I’ll clean a little, okay?” He asks and gets up without waiting for an answer. 

The next ten minutes are heavy with tension and silence as Jared takes the soiled clothes to the washing machine, then cleans up the vomit on the floor of the room. Jensen is curled on his side, eyes closed, but Jared can feel the weight of his green eyes whenever he’s not looking at him. When he’s done, he sits at the edge of the bed.

“Do you feel good enough to take your bath, now?”

“Yeah,” Jensen immediately replies, still avoiding his eyes.

“I’ll get it ready and then I’ll come back to help you there.”

Jared isn’t gone for long, but when he gets back, Jensen is sitting at the edge of the bed, a sheet covering his shoulders.

“You okay to walk?”

“Think so.”  
Jared takes Jensen’s arm to help him stand up, careful not to remove the sheet from his crotch and hips. He starts walking slowly but he’s already more sure and steady. “M’okay. Just tired,” he tells Jared. In the bathroom, he’s able to pull off his tee by himself. He only takes Jared’s arm when it’s time to sit in the bath. He sighs deeply once he’s settled in the tub, even while wincing.

“Did I fall?” He asks, trying to find a better position.

“On your butt. You don’t remember?”

“No. Remember taking my meds and then… It’s kind of blurry.”

Jared sits on the toilet and blows his hair away from his face. 

“It’s like… my fourth bath in a week. Talk about a luxury,” Jensen babbles, letting his hands waver in the water.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh. I… you know. It’s too dangerous for someone like me to take a bath alone. I could… ya know… drown if anything happens.”

“Shit. Never thought about that.”

“Anyway, I kind of went a bit crazy when Mac was here and she could watch me. Well, not literally, but.” 

Jensen shrugs, like the subject is embarrassing and unimportant. When he starts speaking again, his voice is shaking slightly. “I really pulled a number on you, didn’t I?” 

“Hey. I’m just glad I was here. Hell, Jensen, how do you do it? When this happens to you and you’re alone…”

“I deal. What can I do?”

“Aren’t you scared? “ Jared asks before realizing it’s probably not that good of a question, given Jensen’s mind state right now.

“All the freaking time,” Jensen blurts out.

He takes the washcloth and rubs it slowly over his face. 

“I love you,” Jared says then, because apparently, his brain has decided to take a vacation from his mouth.

“You love your boyfriend who just peed himself and vomited on you?” Jensen’s tone is dark and full of sarcasm.

“Jen-“

“I’m sorry you have to put up with this. I should come with a warning, ya’ know? Do not approach, not trained yet.” Jensen tries to joke.

“Don’t say that, Jensen, okay? I don’t care about that.”

“Of course you don’t. You’re a freaking saint!” Jensen replies aggressively, then swears under his breath. “Sorry. Fuck, so sorry, Jared.”

“You just had a seizure. Don’t apologize. I’ll leave you to clean up, okay?”

Only when he’s out of the bathroom and sitting into the kitchen do Jared’s hands start shaking a little. His mouth is dry, his head kind of fuzzy, and he realizes he’s been scared as hell during Jensen’s seizure. The adrenaline rush is fading, leaving him tired and spent. 

“Jared?” Jensen calls from the open bathroom door.

“M’coming.”

He must have zoned out. The muscles of his back are aching as he stands up again. He may have torn something when he picked up Jensen. His back has been fragile since that bad hit he took when he played football in high school. 

“Can you help me up?” Jensen asks, gripping the edge of the bath.

“Yeah, of course. Wait. There we go. Okay…” 

Jensen looks a little better. When he’s out of the bathtub, he is able to wrap himself in a towel and to walk back to his bedroom, even if his movements are slower and still a bit unsteady. He yawns and sits on his bed. “I need to sleep.”

“Yeah, I know. Want me to stay with you?”

“No, I’m fine. Really, Jared. I’m… better.”

“Well.” Jared scratches the back of his head. There are so many things he needs to talk about, but he’ll have to wait until Jensen is in a better state. “Okay, but I’ll come back tonight. Want me to bring something to eat?”

“Yeah, okay.” Jensen plays with the rim of his towel, pulling at a string.

“We have some stuff to talk about.”

“We do?” Jensen asks, raising his head to look at him, eyes looking paler than usual.

“Yeah. You give me a call if you need something, okay?”

“Sure. But I’ll be alright.”

::: :::

A few minutes later, Jensen hears Jared close the door behind him. He slowly stands on his feet, relieved not to have to pretend that he can walk a step without holding on to something anymore. He still has to fight the urge to heave, but he’s too tired to go to the kitchen and drink some water. 

He takes a pair of pajamas from his drawer and puts them on. It’s hard. His thighs and arms are shaking and he all but drops on the bed when he’s done. Jensen never sleeps naked now. It’s so easy, after that time two years ago, to imagine someone finding him dead in his room, and he doesn’t want to be naked if that ever happened. It’s stupid, he knows, but he still never goes to sleep without at least a pair of boxers on.

Once he’s curled up under the covers, the pain in his coccyx recedes. He must have fallen hard on it. It has remained fragile since he broke it four years ago and now it bruises easily.

He doesn’t care about his freaking tailbone, though. Even with the windows open and all the cleaning Jared has done in the room, there is still this faint acrid smell of vomit and urine. 

The tears come so suddenly Jensen chokes on the sob swelling in his throat. He takes a shuddering breath, but it’s like the sob refuses to come out –the tears are so easily shed when he’s having a seizure. When he’s conscious, though… 

For a moment, it seems like the sob will tear his throat apart and, when it finally comes out, it’s low and rough and ugly, shaking his already exhausted body. He curls in on himself and tries to muffle the sound because he can’t stand it, even when alone and when his mind is still fucked up from a seizure.

His nose is running and his eyes are burning and it hurts to swallow around all the sorrow spilling out of him. He’s drifting off, barely awake, and tears are still running down his cheeks when he finally falls asleep.

::: :::

When Jared calls at five to tell him he won’t be able to come by, Jensen isn’t surprised. 

Still. It hurts, knowing it’s the beginning of the end.


	8. Can You Hear Me?

His fingers aren’t as nimble on the frets as he wants them to be and when he finally puts his guitar down, he hasn’t been able to play a single whole song. The morning is dragging, grey and cold and lonely. Jensen is still stuck in that dreaming-awake state that sometimes lasts for more than twenty-four hours after a generalized seizure. It had been a bad one, caused by nervousness and the two hour delay in taking his meds. Normally, two hours don’t make a difference –not that much of a difference anyway, but his sleep cycle had been disrupted, and he had been upset with being late to the meeting.

A perfect cocktail for a seizure. Could have been worse. Sometimes, he does more than just piss himself.

Jensen snorts in derision and grabs the blanket folded beside him on the couch. He turns the TV on and finds a monster truck show. He hates monster truck shows, but it makes him think of Chris, stuffing his mouth full of popcorn and putting his arm around Jensen’s shoulders, yelling over the deafening noise of the engines, “Ain’t this awesome, Ackles? Come on, admit it, man!”

Jensen sighs and closes his eyes. They hurt, like someone has been pulling at some invisible strings attached to them.

He’s a poor specimen of self-loathing and pity right now. He drowns in it, takes comfort in it. 

The first guy he’d dated after he had been diagnosed hadn’t called back after their second date, when Jensen had suffered a partial seizure at the restaurant, managing somehow to take the table with him when he’d fallen off his chair because his freaking legs had tensed so brutally.

It hadn’t helped that Jensen hadn’t told that guy –Brett, or Brad- that he was epileptic, but hey, he’d been young, and he’d still thought he could get away with it.

There had been a couple of one-night-stands here and there, then another guy who had just smiled wide and said “no problem, dude” when Jensen had told him about his epilepsy. Turned out that the “no problem, dude” had only been in effect when Jensen wasn’t actually having a seizure. Nathan had lasted three weeks before telling him that he just couldn’t deal with it.

And then, there had been Matt. Still up to this day, Jensen figures that not only had Matt been really understanding about his condition, but the timing had been perfect. He’d been well controlled by his meds at the time (later, the neurologist had to take him off that particular drug because it had slowly but surely been destroying his liver) and he had started to think that maybe things were finally looking up. The first three months of their relationship, Jensen had had nothing but absence seizures and one partial crisis. When he had to switch meds, he and Matt were already well settled and comfortable with each other so that the first time Matt had actually witnessed a generalized seizure, he had been well prepared.

For months after that, Jensen had held onto their relationship like it was the only thing keeping him alive, and maybe it was. Then came the winter when he had caught every virus passing by, and school had been hard on him, and he’d forgotten. About the beast. How violent and strong it could get if Jensen gave it enough ammunition.

…And then…

_Stop it. Don’t go there._

Jensen burrows deeper into the couch, wrapped in the comforter. There are explosions and wheels screeching and fire on the TV. 

_Okay. I won’t go there._

What does it change anyway? His relationship with Jared had been doomed from the start, and he shouldn’t have allowed himself to give in. Shouldn’t have accepted that first date after he had freaking convulsed in front of the guy.

_We need to talk_ is just another way of saying that this thing between them won’t work out. Jensen knows. He’d recognized the look on Jared’s face. 

His cell phone startles him when it rings. Jensen’s surprised to hear it this soon. He’d expected Jared to wait a little longer before being ready to have this talk. For a second, Jensen considers not answering. He’s still tired, not as sharp as he normally feels, and yeah… he’s a coward. But he can’t do that. He knows all too well what it does to people when he doesn’t answer the phone. Jesus, there’d been that time his mother had left everything there at the supermarket and come home so fast she’d been flagged by a cop for speeding on the way, and then, when she’d explained what was happening, they’d sent a patrol to the house only to find Jensen dozing peacefully in front of the TV. 

So Jensen mutes the TV and answers his phone. Jared’s voice is careful and quieter than usual. “Hey, how’re you doing?”

“I’m fine.”

“Sorry about yesterday, I got caught up with work and… Can I come by now?”

Jensen sighs. “You know, we can just do this over the phone.”

“What?”

“Just… say what you gotta say, Jared. I can take it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You said we needed to talk. Yesterday. Before you left.”

“Jensen.” Jared’s voice is suddenly imperative and low.

“What?”

“I’m coming to see you, and you better open your damn door.”

Then he hangs up.

_Fuck_ , Jensen thinks.

::: :::

 

Jared isn’t stupid. Most people think he may not be the smartest guy because he likes to joke around and goof off and maybe also because of his stature, according to the old cliché about dumb jocks. They’re wrong. Jared is smart and quick and gifted, with a social intelligence that has defined his entire life.

Hearing Jensen’s voice on the phone, he immediately gets it. The tone alone, even without the words, is enough. Jensen thinks Jared is going to end things between them after what happened yesterday. He probably thinks staying late at work had just been an excuse. 

Jared still hasn’t completely unfolded the mystery that is Jensen Ackles, but he’s starting to get some insight. He knows Jensen is holding onto his pride and independence like they’re the only things keeping his head above water, He also knows how mortified and embarrassed Jensen is even after a simple absence seizure, let alone a generalized seizure which includes loss of bladder control. He must think Jared sees him like Jensen sees himself, but his self-assessment is wrong, distorted. It’s a given that nobody can be completely impartial when judging themselves, but Jensen seems to be unusually critical. 

Naturally, Jensen has come to the conclusion that Jared doesn’t want him anymore and Jared already knows that it will take a lot to convince him otherwise.

He swears under his breath, shoving his foot down on the accelerator. Yesterday had been scary as hell. He hadn’t been scared _of_ Jensen, of course, but scared _for_ him, which makes all the difference in the world. He doesn’t care about vomit and urine and freaky laughs and foaming saliva. He couldn’t care less about any of that, when Jensen is there, needing him, hurt and confused and depending on him. 

And maybe Jared needs people to need him, doesn’t feel complete and happy if he has the impression that he’s useless, but this, with Jensen, this is different, and he has no intention of letting him go.

Jensen opens the door before Jared has the time to knock. The young man is still really pale, his usually bright green eyes dull and empty. Overall, Jared is just relieved to see him standing.

“Can I come in?”

“Since you didn’t give me a choice, I suppose I don’t have a say in this matter,” Jensen retorts, backing away from the door. 

His sarcastic tone angers Jared but he lets it go. He won’t fall for Jensen’s game. Can’t. Needs his boyfriend to understand clearly what his intentions are.

“Living room?” Jensen proposes, already walking toward it.

“Okay.”

Jensen sits right in the middle of the couch, dragging his legs under him and leaning his head against the backrest. Jared takes the armchair –he knows better than to force intimacy in a moment when Jensen is so close to the edge, despite his apparent calm and resignation.

“What’s going on?” Jared asks, because he needs to clear things up as quickly as possible.

“Nothing’s going on.”

“Look at me, Jensen.”

Jensen sighs then slowly turns his head toward him. 

“You think I’m going to dump you because of yesterday’s seizure.”

Jensen doesn’t say a word. His lips are reduced to a thin white line.

“I didn’t _pretend_ I had to work late,” Jared says very slowly to be sure Jensen doesn’t miss a word. “Believe me, I would have preferred to drop everything and come by. I was worried and, most of all, I wanted to see you. To be with you. But I’m still having trouble with the Felicia Day case. Stewart’s sister came to pay her a visit, basically to intimidate her. Had to call the police. Again. Stewart’s hearing is scheduled for Monday and he sent a message to Felicia through his sister. If he is released on bail he will go back to live in their house because it’s his name on the deed. Felicia would have to move out. I spend the evening making calls and going through the papers to try and find a solution and the poor woman was a mess. And the sister was right. Stewart’s name is the only one on the deed and fuck… It was midnight when I finally left her.”

“I believe you.”

“Good,” Jared says, short of breath. 

Jensen’s face remains blank. “Okay. I thought you might want to end things between us. I wouldn’t be mad or anything if you did, Jared. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“You’re wrong. And okay, I get why you might think that. Well… I know I can’t really get it because it has never happened to me, but I know you must feel embarrassed about your seizure and…”

Jared waves his hand dismissively. Jensen snorts in derision. “What?”

“What does it change if I say it? You threw up and you peed yourself in front of your new boyfriend. I don’t care about that, Jensen.”

“Maybe I do,” Jensen mumbles.

“I know you do. I can’t convince you that you don’t have anything to be ashamed of, but yesterday, after your seizure, I was just relieved that you were okay. That’s all there is to it. I didn’t stop and tell myself, well, look at the mess he made of himself. And now I have to clean it up.”

“You know, it’s always so inspirational in the movies and on TV,” Jensen replies, his tone soft suddenly. “There is this sick, beautiful person lying in a clean, white bed, and his loved one is sitting nearby, holding his hand.”

“Well, yeah, but-“

“And fuck, you think… That is what it’s supposed to be like. Illness. Lying in a clean bed while a nurse wipes your forehead with a washcloth. Or, I don’t know… Like a made-for-TV movie. The sick person is so courageous and everybody around him admires him and he’s an example, he’s accomplishing something amazing and –and even if he dies at the end, he dies happy, smiling in those freaking white sheets.”

Jensen presses the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. “But illness is nothing like those shitty stories full of dignity. It’s nasty, and dirty, and humiliating. It’s… it stinks, it pours out of you like a damn poison and it follows you everywhere you go. You don’t even have the time to think about accomplishing something because you can barely keep your head out of the water.”

Jensen shakes his head and smiles nervously while wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “M’ sorry. I’m tired. I’m not making any sense.

“No, you are,” Jared finally says, fighting the urge to sit next to him and pull his too thin body into his arms. “I’m just… you don’t talk about your epilepsy like that usually.”

“Well, now that you’ve seen practically everything there is to see about it, I have nothing to hide.”

“And that brings us to the subject I needed to talk to you about.”

“Okay.”

“Mac told me about the Valium,” Jared lets his news fall, watching Jensen closely to gage his reaction. A faint blush creeps up his boyfriend’s cheeks, but he doesn’t seem upset.

“I figured she would probably find a way to mention it to you,” he murmurs. “I would have, you know… It’s…”

“I know. It’s not something that’s easy to talk about. Mac explained to me how to use it.”

“I didn’t have any because I was living alone. Wouldn’t be of any use to me if there wasn’t anybody to… administer it.”

“The five-minute rule, Jensen. Does the time you remain unconscious after the seizure count?”

“No. It doesn’t. Unless I go into seizure again without waking up, or… you know, shortly after I wake up.”

“That can happen? Two seizures in a row?”

“It’s called status epilepticus, and yes, it can happen.”

“I want one of those suppositories at my place. Just in case.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Jensen nods. His eyes are closed once more, his head tited backward against the backrest.

“You’re tired.” Jared declares.

“I’m okay.”

Jared scratches the back of his head, hesitating to continue with the conversation, but he has to, won’t wait for another seizure like yesterday’s to know all there is to know about Jensen’s epilepsy.

“Jen? What… what happens when you have a seizure like that and you’re alone?”

“I told you, I deal with it. What else can I do?”

“But… you could barely walk by yourself yesterday.”

“Yeah. Well, I wait until I’m better and then I… take care of myself.”

“Jesus, Jen.”

“What? It’s not like I have a choice here.”

“I don’t know how you do it.”

“I do it, that’s all,” Jensen snaps impatiently. “This is my life, Jared. It won’t get any better. What happened yesterday, it’ll keep on happening. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

Jensen smiles, but his eyes remain sad. 

“Is it because of your meds? You were two hours late. Is that enough to give you a seizure?”

“It’s a trigger, so is stress, nervousness. And that’s what happened. I’m not saying I wouldn’t have had a seizure, but maybe it would’ve been a partial one.”

“You mentioned a med before you collapsed, and it wasn’t Valium, I’m sure of that.”

“Must have been talking about my Ativan.”

“Yes! That’s it. You asked for your Ativan. What is it?”

“It’s a drug for anxiety but it can work for seizures as well. Sometimes, I have time to take one before a seizure, and it can stop it, or make it less serious. It also helps when I’m tired or sick or really stressed and more vulnerable to having an episode.”

“You’ll show me where you keep it, okay?”

“Uh-huh.”

Jared finally gets up from his chair to join Jensen on the couch. The other man doesn’t flinch or try to get away, and when Jared wraps an arm around his shoulders, he actually leans into it. “You sure about this, Jared? I was serious, you know. I would understand if you preferred to end things.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not.” Jensen is looking at him straight in the eyes. “You know I’m not. Epilepsy, it’s a burden for me and for those close to me. That’s how things are.”

“I know, but the fact that you’re so damn gorgeous –and also a sex god- kind of compensate for it.”

Jensen smiles at that and calls Jared a moron and, suddenly, the atmosphere in the living room lightens up.

“Is there anything else I need to know about your epilepsy before we close the subject?” Jared asks, pressing Jensen against him.

Jensen stays silent for a couple of seconds. “No. You know everything there is to it,” he finally murmurs. And Jared believes him.

::: :::

On Monday, November 14, Patrick Stewart is released on bail for six thousand dollars with strict conditions, including a restraining order not to try to contact or see his daughter and wife.

Felicia bursts into tears when Jared calls her to give her the news, and he feels sorry and useless because he can’t help this woman as much as he wants to. She has already packed her and Jessie’s things just in case, and is going to live with her sister, an hour and a half away from York. She’ll have to quit her job and take Jessie out of her daycare center. She could’ve found a place to stay in town –Jared had been ready to help her, but she hadn’t wanted to risk meeting Patrick everywhere she went. Sometimes justice seems so wrong –Stewart is the one at fault, but it is Felicia who is paying the highest price. The trial won’t begin before January –the winter holiday season coming up is slowing things at York’s city hall to a crawl- and in the meantime, Stewart will go on with his life like nothing has changed. The thin, well-dressed man had been smiling when he had left the courthouse, a very disturbing smile. Jared is glad Felicia had decided not to be there.

This whole case is affecting him more than usual –he doesn’t know why. He’s seen plenty of women in need, having suffered mistreatment from their husband or boyfriend for years before gathering the courage to leave them. All of those women had touched him in their own way. But there is something in Felicia that just gets to Jared. Perhaps it’s all that fiery innocence and mother bear attitude with her tiny daughter, as red headed as she is, both of them realizing that yes, life can be unfair and cruel sometimes.

Jared knows he should talk about it with someone. It’s not healthy, keeping everything inside, but Misha is one employee short at the café, and Jensen… Well, Jensen has his own problems to deal with. Things have gotten back to normal after their discussion Friday, or so it seems, but his boyfriend is quiet and withdrawn, even if he keeps telling Jared that no, everything is fine. As the end of the week approaches, Jared gives up on the idea that Jensen is going to invite him to the Kane concert. He doesn’t ask. Maybe Jensen has changed his mind; maybe he doesn’t feel up to it, maybe he wants to take somebody else with him. There is still a slim possibility that he’s keeping the surprise until the last minute, but Jared doesn’t really believe that.

Friday night comes and, when Jensen invites Jared over for dinner, it really is for dinner; no mention of a Kane concert to attend. Jared makes an effort of not thinking about it anymore and just enjoys Jensen’s company. He cooks for him, something elaborate –a Thai sauté, spicy and delicious. Jensen is a good cook and he seems to really enjoy having Jared moaning in pleasure around mouthfuls of food he has prepared himself.

Maybe they won’t go to a concert, but Jared doesn’t really care when he sees Jensen in a better mood than he’s been in all week, and he wants to keep that beautiful smile on his face. After dinner, they settle in the living room to listen to David Bowie’s Low, Jensen sitting with Jared’s head on his lap, almost folded in half to fit on the couch. Jensen runs his fingers through Jared’s hair, humming low in his throat, and he feels like he’s going to start purring any second now. Then, Jensen’s favorite song, Sound and Vision, starts and he acts all adorably geeky over it, analyzing the guitar riffs and talking about Bowie’s arrival in Berlin as he was fighting his cocaine dependency and it’s very interesting, but Jared wants Jensen to laugh and smile again, so he gets up and starts moving to the music. He’s not a good dancer, he knows he’s not, but he keeps it up under Jensen’s startled gaze.

“What are you doing?”

“Aw, come on. How can you not dance on this song?”

“I’m perfectly capable of not dancing on this song, Jared.”

“Yeah, right. Come on, Jen.”

Jared grabs Jensen’s arm and drags him up. Jensen’s face is flushed pink and he rolls his eyes as Jared dances around him.

“Jared.”

“Dance with me.”

“I don’t dance.”

“Me neither.”

Jared grabs Jensen by the waist and sways from left to right, all long limbs and hair falling in his face. Jensen smiles, mumbles something about having the dorkiest boyfriend ever and blushes harder, but he starts swaying his hips lightly and wraps his arms around Jared’s neck. It’s a bit uncomfortable since Jared is taller than him and has to bend his back, but he doesn’t protest because Jensen is laughing out loud now and it’s sexy as hell. Whenever he does that it’s like he loses control of his body, like a baby falling on his butt because he’s laughing too hard. Jensen looks so much younger when he lets go, eyes bright and crinkling, snorting helplessly as Jared keeps moving without having a clue as to what he’s doing. He can’t help himself, he tucks Jensen’s body close to his and shoves his face in Jensen’s neck, deeply breathing in the smell of his lover. They slow dance to a song that’s way too frenetic to be followed and then Jensen’s voice rises from his chest, the vibration echoing against Jared’s own, and his voice is low and deep as he sings with David Bowie. “Do you wonder sometimes/about sound and vision…”

Jared, who’s already half hard, feels his dick twitch. A warm sensation spreads from his lower body and he moans, grabbing Jensen’s ass with both hands.

“I want you, Jen,” he rasps.

They don’t make it to the bedroom.

::: :::

“Jensen, damn it, open your fucking door!”

Jared jerks awake in the dim light coming from the nightstand, feels Jensen sliding out of bed as the banging at the door gets louder and the voice screams again. “Hey! Jensen! LET ME IN!”

Jared finds himself standing up, walking behind Jensen, trying to understand what is going on. He looks at his watch on the way. It’s almost midnight and…

Yeah, they’d had sex on the couch, took a shower, went to bed, had more sex and must have fallen asleep less than an hour ago.

“Jensen, what is… It’s the middle of the night. You’re not going to open your door, are you?” Jared whispers. He grabs Jensen’s arm, forcing him to stop walking. Jensen looks pissed; his glasses are hanging on the edge of his nose, his hair spiked in mussed strands.

“I know who this is. I have to let him in before he wakes up the whole neighborhood.”

“Jen-sen!” The man yells, then starts banging again. There is a fist suspended in midair when Jensen opens the door, letting in a cold, violent wind. 

The man standing on the doorstep is well built and, even if he’s shorter than Jared, he’s impressive. Long brown hair with a leather jacket and jeans, stubble on his square jaw and piercing –very piercing, blue eyes.

He’s swaying on his feet and stinks of alcohol. But he’s not alone. A few steps back, there is another man wearing similar clothes, hair almost as long but blonder. He’s whispering between his teeth. “Will you shut your trap, Chris, we’re gonna get arrested.”

_Chris._ And… Yeah, Jared has seen those two before, even if they were much younger.

“Get in and stop yelling,” Jensen tells Chris, leaving the door wide open.

Chris grunts and walks straight past the both of them. The other one –Steve, if Jared remembers correctly- gives a lopsided smile. “Sorry, we were in a bar, he was pissed, next thing I knew, he jumped in a cab and here we are.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” Jensen shrugs, lowering his eyes like he can’t stand his friend’s gaze. 

There are about five seconds of very, very awkward silence in which Jared has time to ask himself what the hell is going on and can he possibly still be asleep.

“It’s good to see you, man,” maybe-Steve says.

“Yeah, good to see you too.” Jensen smiles.

They share a very manly, very short hug. Then, Jensen seems to remember Jared’s presence.

“Jared, this is my friend Steve. Steve, my boyfriend, Jared.”

“Nice to meet you.” Steve grabs Jared’s hand and shakes it enthusiastically. 

“Nice to meet you too.”

“Ain’t that cute,” Chris snarls, coming slowly towards them. “Old friends getting together. What the fuck, Jensen?”

“Chris.”

“It was one show. One. Freaking. Show. You couldn’t even make the effort to come?”

“Hey. Not now.”

“Then when, because you sure as hell don’t answer your phone or your email!”

“Chris, calm down,” Steve pushes gently on Chris’ chest as he gets closer to Jensen, hands closed in fists. Jared doesn’t like how things are turning out and steps in front of Jensen.

“What, you think m’gonna hit him?” Christian shouts at Steve.

“You’re wasted, man.”

“Jared, he’s not dangerous,” Jensen tells him, pushing him aside with an exasperated expression on his face. He pushes his glasses back on his nose, looking as severe as a teacher, suddenly. “You wanna talk, Chris? Let’s talk. But I’m making you coffee first.”

“I should go,” Jared mumbles, feeling this is what he’s supposed to say, even if he does not feel comfortable leaving Jensen alone with these two. 

“No, you stay. You’re gonna keep Steve company because he’s staying too. We’ll need someone to drag Christian’s ass out of here eventually.”

“That’s charming,” Christian snarls, sitting on one of the benches at the counter. He then crosses his arms on his chest, looking less dangerous suddenly - a cross between a pouting kid and a drunk teenager.

“Shut up. You’re the one who came over here screaming in the middle of the night. Jare, can you take Steve in the living room?”

“Are you-“

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

Steve shrugs, looking uneasy and exhausted. “Lead the way, man.”

With one last look at Jensen, who’s already rummaging through the cupboard, Jared walks Steve into the living room. 

“Huh. Make yourself at home. I’m just gonna get dressed and be right back.”

“I’m so freaking sorry,” Steve says, collapsing on the couch.

_Yeah, me too,_ Jared thinks.

Jensen’s apartment is designed in a way that the living room and kitchen are completely separated. He won’t be able to hear what’s going on unless they yell at each other. Passing by once he gets his jeans on, he takes the opportunity to eavesdrop.

“…are you doing?” Chris is asking.

“Taking a pill.” Jensen replies coldly.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to start zoning out when we’re in the middle of it, okay?”

“Yeah. Okay,” Chris says, already sounding way less pissed than a few minutes back.

Not willing to get caught, Jared leaves at that point, making his way back to the living room where Steve hasn’t moved from his spot. He’s humming a song, eyes closed.

“So,” Jared says, sitting in the armchair in front of him.

“Don’t worry about Christian,” Steve immediately replies. He would never hurt Jensen.”

“Yeah I… Shit, this is awkward,” Jared admits, laughing nervously, because apparently, his social skills are less effective when it’s the middle of the night and he has to make conversation with a stranger. Who would’ve guessed? 

“It is,” Steve smiles at him. “So, you’re Jensen’s boyfriend.”

“Yeah.”

“Mac told me you were great.”

“Well, she’s pretty great too”

“I’m glad Jensen has found someone.”

“Yeah, I’m glad I found him.”

“Yeah…”

“Yeah, so…”

And, what the hell, if no one is going to tell him what’s going on, Jared is going to ask. He’s too tired to do small talk.

“You guys were giving a concert tonight.”

“Yeah.”

“And you invited Jensen.”

“Well…” Steve scratches the back of his head and stretches his booted legs in front of himself. “Chris sent him tickets, basically. They haven’t talked to each other since Jensen left Richardson.”

“Yeah, it seemed a bit tense between them.”

Steve laughs, head tilted back. “A bit tense is an understatement. It wasn’t always like that, you know. They’ve been best friends since elementary school.”

“What happened?”

“Not sure it’s my place to tell. Let’s just say Chris didn’t understand Jensen’s reasons for leaving.”

“Do you?”

“Who are you, man, my psychiatrist? I don’t know. Jensen’s always been a good friend of mine, but he and Chris were much closer. Tonight is the first time I’ve seen him in a year.”

“You think they’ll work it out?”

Steve sighs and sits straighter, looking at Jared with a serious expression in his grey eyes. “To tell the truth, I doubt it. If you ask me –which is kind of what you’re doing, right?”

“Huh. Right.”

“Things have been difficult between them since Jensen left the band, almost five years ago.”

“Oh. They’ve got a long way to go, then.”

“Yeah. Add to that that Chris is a stubborn bastard and that Jensen never really took the time to work things out and ta-da! You have a drunken man yelling outside your boyfriend’s house in the middle of the night.”

Jared sighs, thinking about Chad. He hasn’t seen him in what… three years? They were inseparable when they were young. Chad still lives close, a little outside of Portland. They simply grew apart, Jared guesses. Realized nothing was bonding them anymore as they became adults. Wanted different things. They never fought. They’d just gradually drifted away from each other. It happens sometimes. Even to really close friends. He tries to explain this to Steve and suggests that maybe the same thing happened to Chris and Jensen.

“Well, if that’s what it is, we’re screwed, because Christian will never let go. Never.”

“Why?” A sudden idea flashes through Jared’s mind. “Were they together at some point?”

“No. Chris is straight. But… here’s the thing. Jensen came out to his friends and family pretty early on. We were fifteen, I guess and well, soon enough, the whole school knew. Let’s just say it wasn’t the most tolerant high school and things got pretty bad for Jensen. The worst thing was that the more he was bullied, the more he was open about his sexual orientation. He started dressing differently, had this whole smug attitude in front of everybody. The only thing keeping the bullies away from him was Chris. I can’t even count how many times he got into a fight defending Jensen. He became very protective of him –hell, we all were. I knew, even at that age, that Jensen’s attitude was like… his way of dealing with his homosexuality. He once told me that if he started being scared, it would never end. He was deep.”

“Sounds like he was,” Jared smiles softly, imagining Jensen taking the matter on head first instead of letting it control his life. It must have been hard.

Steve is smiling too, his eyes lost somewhere over Jared’s head. “Yeah and… Well, Chris’ protective attitude never faded. This whole epilepsy shit happened and it got worse. He insisted on keeping Jensen in the band, even though he wouldn’t be there half the time because he was ill or just not feeling well enough to play. He tried, though. Gave up being the lead singer. Chris took his place. As time passed, Jay played less and less with us. He couldn’t keep up. Sometimes he was so stressed he would have a seizure just before a show and huh… we were starting to have some success, ya know. We were asked for gigs, and a producer took interest in us. Jensen knew he was holding us back –hell, we all knew it too but we didn’t really care.

“That’s why he quit.”

“He was tired and he felt guilty for what he was doing to the band. Christian never understood. He thought Jensen’s place was with us, with him, where he could keep an eye on him and well, we’ve all been scared for Jensen at one point or another –this epilepsy thing is pretty bad sometimes. But Chris…it was like Chris had the impression that as long as he was close to Jensen, he would be able to keep everything bad from happening to him.

Jared sighs, feeling much more sympathy toward Chris than an hour ago. He gets it, gets how sometimes it feels like only your presence can keep evil at bay. 

He’d felt the same when Jeff died.

::: :::

It’s almost two in the morning when Chris decides he has had enough. There are no reconciling hugs, no promises to call and work on their issues. He stands up suddenly. “Tell Steve I’ll be waiting for him in the car,” he mumbles.   
Jensen doesn’t do anything to hold him back. He’s tired, he’s angry, and he’s worried about what Jared will think of what has happened. In the living room, he finds both men fast asleep, Steve sprawled out on the couch, snoring loudly, and Jared tucked in on himself in the armchair, his chin resting on his chest. 

Steve wakes up at Jensen’s first touch. He’s barely awake as he stumbles out of the house, telling Jensen in a slurry voice that it was nice seeing him, patting him on the back before he walks down the alley toward the parking lot in the cold night.

Jensen shivers and closes the door. Waking Jared up takes more work, but eventually Jensen coaxes him to come back to bed with him. Jared’s all soft and warm and pliant. He wraps his giant body around Jensen’s under the covers and sighs in contentment. 

Now that he’s lying in bed, Jensen knows he won’t be able to fall asleep any time soon, despite the Ativan. Chris’s words keep spinning in his head and there is this sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach.

_Why do I have to keep screwing things up with you, he thinks, running his fingers through Jared’s soft hair. Why do you keep putting up with it?_

_Out of pity,_ a really unpleasant voice murmurs in the back of his mind.

_No, it’s not like that. He’s in love with me._

Think about it, Jensen. The guy obviously has this mother Theresa syndrome. He’s a social worker. He can’t stand people around him suffering. That’s exactly what it is. Compassion. Pity.

_It’s not. You gotta stop thinking like that_

What the hell is the matter with you? Epilepsy is a sickness, it’s not who you are, Chris had said at some point during their conversation.

Who am I to you anyway, Chris? The guy who used to sing in your band? You never got that he doesn’t exist anymore.

Shut up, Jay! There is no excuse for risking your life on a daily basis.

See, this, right here, is exactly why I left. And you’re a hypocrite, telling me that epilepsy doesn’t define me. It’s been nine years, damn it, and you still treat me like your poor, fragile friend who needs to be taken care of.

Jensen bites his lips, hard, his anger toward Chris rises once more inside of him, making him itchy and uncomfortable all over, struck with the urge to scream, to open his mouth and fucking scream until his voice dies.

Everything is so wrong right now. Each and every single time he manages to fill the emptiness inside of him, the beast doesn’t let him forget it. It is the beast, after all, that is running the show.


	9. Always Crashing in the Same Car

Saturday morning, Jared wakes up alone in Jensen’s bed. He has a light headache and aches everywhere. Remembering what happened the night before, he winces as he tries to stretch his long limbs without pulling the muscles too much.

He walks to the kitchen in search of Jensen who’s sitting at the counter, half asleep in his coffee mug. He’s pale, features tense with dark circles under his eyes.

Jared pours himself a cup and sits next to him. It’s eight in the morning. Outside, it’s snowing, big wet snowflakes that have started to paint the landscape white.

“Did you get any sleep after they left?” He asks Jensen, rubbing his boyfriend’s back.

“Couple of hours,” Jensen murmurs in a gruff voice. He takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes.

“Well, that was an interesting night,” Jared replies as playfully as he can at eight in the morning.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Jared,” Jensen says with conviction. He huffs and puts his face in his hands.

“Hey, come on. T’s’not like you were responsible for any of it.”

“Exactly like it is with my epilepsy, right?” Jensen’s sarcasm is loud and clear in his voice. “For christ’sake, Jared, do you ever get pissed at anything?”

“I get pissed all the time, but not when there’s no reason.”

“After what happened last night, you haven’t even asked what the deal with Chris and Steve is.”

“First of all, I’ve been awake for less than ten minutes so my brain isn’t working properly yet. Second, I don’t need to ask because Steve and I had a little chat about it last night.”

Jensen raises an eyebrow. There is fear in his eyes. “What kind of chat?”

“Listen, relax. He only told me about how Chris has been very protective of you since high school, and that he’s never really accepted you leaving the band. And also that you guys haven’t talked since you left Richardson.”

That just about sums it up, Jared thinks, trying not to feel guilty for omitting certain details that he’s sure would make Jensen feel awkward.

“Yeah well, that’s it, then. I guess that’s a good summary. Chris and I… I don’t think we can be friends anymore, you know?”

“So your talk last night didn’t change anything?”

“No.” Jensen yawns. 

“Why did you tell Mac you were going to take me to the Kane concert, then?”

Jensen blushes and lowers his eyes. “She found the tickets –I thought I had thrown them away but apparently not. I didn’t want to get into my issues with Chris with her and I lied. It seemed… simpler.”

“Okay. Makes sense.”

“No it doesn’t. But that’s what I did anyway.”

Jared drinks the rest of his coffee which is basically the three spoonful of sugar he’d put in it. He feels better already. Awake. Ready for his day. “So, what do you want to do today?”

“Work. I’ve got some work to do,” Jensen sighs. He looks outside and is shaken by a shiver. 

“Are you okay?” Jared asks, seeing something he can’t quite figure out in Jensen’s tired eyes.

“Yeah, I’m alright, I guess. I don’t know, Jared. It seems like everything is falling apart,” Jensen murmurs, never turning his eyes away from the window. It’s like he’s talking to himself. 

Jared doesn’t like seeing him like that, and the impression that Jensen is slowly slipping away from him that he’s had since Jensen’s seizure last week comes back to him in full force. He stands up behind him and wraps his arms around his shoulders, resting his chin on the top of his head. He’s relieved to feel Jensen leaning into the touch. “Listen. I know the last couple of weeks were kind of tough. It’s okay. We’ll take it easy this weekend, what do you say?”

“Aren’t you tired of my fucked up life?”

“No. I’m not. Don’t say stuff like that.”

“Why? It’s true, you know it,” Jensen tenses even as Jared holds him tighter against himself.

Jared doesn’t answer. Instead, he bends over Jensen and kisses him. The other man resists for a couple of seconds, then melts into the touch. They somehow make their way back to the bedroom.

Under the sheets, their naked bodies rub against each other. Jensen takes the lead and settles over Jared, sucking and kissing the tender skin of his neck while their cocks slide one against the other. It’s slow, lazy love-making and Jensen is silent –no dirty talk, not a single whimpering noise escaping his throat until he comes, Jared’s fingers rubbing at his hole and their hips jerking against each other. “Fuuuck,” Jensen moans, head tilted back, his cock pulsing and hot against Jared’s thigh. He literally collapses on Jared, shivering, and Jared lets go, Jensen’s smell and presence all around him making him feel drunk and light headed. 

“Love you,” Jensen rasps against his chest.

“Love you too.”

Jared starts playing with Jensen’s hair, running his fingers softly through the short bangs. He knows what it’s doing to his boyfriend, how relaxed he becomes every time he does it. Jensen needs to sleep, to just let go for a while. It works. Their combined semen is cooling on their skin, but Jared doesn’t care. He pulls the comforter over the both of them and keeps up with the hair stroking. Jensen’s breathing slows down, becomes deep and even. Jared doesn’t move. “I got you,” he murmurs. Don’t worry. I got you.”

::: :::

Jared doesn’t go home until Sunday afternoon, to Jensen’s insistence that he really, really has to work. He looks in better spirits, which Jared has worked on since Saturday. They’d run some errands, Jared introducing Jensen to a disc store that sells vinyl discs which is apparently Jensen’s best discovery since moving to York. He’d looked like a kid in a toy store when he found a copy of _Diamond Dogs in excellent condition._ They’d made love and talked and cuddled on the couch, not talking about anything coming close to Jensen’s epilepsy or life in Richardson. 

When he finally leaves, Jared has the comforting sensation of having accomplished something. He gets home light hearted, motivated enough to do some cleaning and write an email to his parents who are now spending a week on Crete Island. As usual, he keeps everything light and optimistic, doesn’t want to ruin their well-deserved travel. They know Jared has met someone, that he’s great, and that things are serious between them. Jared had already scanned Mac’s picture and sent it to them, receiving shortly thereafter an ecstatic message from his mother with so many exclamation marks and smileys it looks like it had been written by an excited little girl.

Jared smiles at the memory, finishes his e-mail by writing he misses them both, which is true, and sends it. 

They’ll be home a week before Christmas. He can hardly wait for them to meet Jensen.

They don’t see each other Monday and Tuesday. The Shelter has filled to its full capacity during the weekend and Jared and Geneviève have their hands full. He makes a point of speaking to Jensen or texting him as often as he can, attentive to his boyfriend’s tone of voice, to anything that would give him a clue that Jensen doesn’t feel well or still has doubts about Jared’s intentions. They plan to go out to dinner on Wednesday after Jared swears he’s going to die if he doesn’t kiss Jensen in the next twenty-four hours. 

Jensen laughs at that. “Do you miss me, or my ass, Jare?”

Both, he answers, absolutely sincere.

::: :::

On Wednesday November 23rd, Jensen comes back from a meeting with Morrisson at the end of the afternoon. He almost falls asleep in the cab, but a headache keeps him from giving in completely. He had woken up that morning with this painful pressure all around his head and under his eyes. He thinks he may be coming down with something as the day goes by and the pressure moves to his cheeks while his nose feels stuffy and itchy. He’s used to it. It’s been like that since he was diagnosed, more susceptible to viruses and infections. 

He slowly makes his way into his apartment, leaving footsteps on the snow covered ground. As soon as he’s inside, he takes off his jacket and drags himself to the living room, feeling like he’s just run a mile.

He lies on the couch, his head propped up with a cushion, and closes his eyes, rubbing at his temples and cursing under his breath.

_I just want to make sure you can accomplish the amount of work we gave you, Mr. Ackles. Don’t get me wrong, I understand that you have no control over your… condition._

The fucker. Jensen had nodded and smiled and assured him there was nothing to worry about. He knows he’s doing good work for the literature department, has only received praised from the teachers he’s working for. He doesn’t need any more pressure from an asshole full of prejudices who judges him solely on his handicap instead of his references and aptitude.

Easy thing to realize, but the pressure remains nonetheless, and today, Jensen had chosen not to take another Ativan. He’s taken one every day since Chris’ visit and he knows that’s not a good strategy. Still, he’s felt so stressed and on edge –and with Jared’s eyes almost constantly on him, the worriedness practically pouring off of him, Jensen couldn’t deal with it. Didn’t have the energy.

He knows Jared has good reasons to worry about him and he tries his best not to be irritated by it, not after the disaster of his last generalized seizure, He doesn’t have the right to be. He just wants to get over this, for it to be like in the beginning when they’d just started going out together and he’d felt so good when Jared looked at him, he’d felt like he was loved and desired and wanted. So he’d taken the Ativan to be the person he knows Jared wants him to be and to stay as calm and relaxed as possible. Then, on Monday, he had trouble sleeping and was scared his lack of sleep would cause a seizure so he’d taken another one. And yesterday… Well, he doesn’t have any excuse for yesterday. It’s just that life is so much easier sometimes when his anxiety fades before it gets the best of him.

He’s not supposed to do this, though. Ativan is supposed to be an emergency medication. His doctor has told him that if he ever gets used to it, the drug will lose some of its effectiveness, and quitting will create another trigger for his seizures. Waking up with a headache and a general tired feeling, he had almost succumbed this morning, but he hadn’t.

And now, he can’t stop thinking about Morrison’s artificial sympathy, can’t stop thinking about the whole mess with Chris and Steve, and the way Jared keeps witnessing those parts of him Jensen wishes he could keep hidden. His helplessness. His vulnerability. His fucked-up life.

Damn, sometimes, Jensen wonders why he keeps trying, what it’s going to take to have a normal life, to have goals and hopes and…

Fuck. He has to stop. Right now.

_You know everything’s going to go down with Jared eventually. One way or another. You should end it before it becomes even more complicated than it already is._

But he can’t, because he’s in love. He’s never felt this for anyone, not even Matt. And…

Jensen stands in front of his bedroom mirror, looking back at his reflection. What was he doing? Wasn’t he in the living room, lying down on the couch and…

What the…

He raises shaking hands to press against his eyes, trying to clear his vision. Where are his glasses? That’s what he must have been doing here. Looking for his glasses.

Something’s wrong.

Jensen turns quickly on his heels, certain –almost- he hears a voice. 

He’s alone.  
 _Keep it together._ That’s… There is something he needs to do, but he can’t figure out what. He bursts out crying so suddenly it hurts his chest. His head is full of molasses, and everything, everything…

The smell comes, then, so strong and insistent, turning his stomach upside down. It does, however, seem to clear his mind temporarily. He’s confused because he’s on the verge of having a seizure, and it’s going to be a big one, he can tell. Can feel it in his bones, the buzz and the irrational fear that something terrible, something…

He needs his Ativan. Needs to call someone. Maybe he has time to-

His body won’t move. Tears and snot are running down his face. It’s bad. Bad, it’s so…

The bed. If he can only reach the bed. It’s like he weights a ton, and he has to fight his brain with all his will power, but even then, he finds himself falling slowly to the carpet next to the bed, gripping the mattress so as not to hurt himself.

_No, please no. Please… So, so tired of all this._

Then there are invisible claws tearing at his eyes and he tries to breathe but there’s no air around him. Just thick, dense smoke.

::: :::

 

After his day at work, Jared doesn’t feel like going back to his place before picking up Jensen. There is still an hour left, and he’s more or less in Misha’s neighborhood, so he decides to drop by on a whim. He finds his friend working in his garage under a crude halogen light, wood pieces and sawdust scattered all around the place. 

Misha greets him without turning his head. He has seemed distracted –even more than usual, over the course of the last few days, not enough to worry Jared, but still. Maybe it has something to do with Victoria. She’s been gone for a week for a series of conferences in Ontario, but Misha usually deals well with her long absences.

“Watcha doing?” Jared asks, sitting on a plastic outdoor chair. There is still sand between the cracks.

“Building something.”

“Yeah, no shit. What is it?”

Misha is blocking Jared’s view and he tries to bend forward to see, but can’t quite make out the shape. 

“Is it a kitchen chair?” He asks, hopeful.

“No, it’s a crib,” Misha replies in the same distracted tone.

“A crib? For whom? Is it an order?”

“No, it’s not.”

Misha drops his plane and finally turns back to look at Jared, his face unreadable. “Vicky’s pregnant.”

“What? How? Holy shit, man, that’s great,” Jared practically shouts, standing up to give Misha a solid hug. His friend shrugs and blushes, which is unusual for him.

“When is the baby due?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“Victoria just got her blood test results back. She’s scheduled an appointment with an obstetrician for the end of the week, after she’s back here.”

“And was it… was it planned?”

Misha bursts out laughing at this. “Hell no. I don’t think Vic has ever been so surprised in her whole life. She was shocked when she called to tell me. And I mean severely shocked.”

“But is she happy?”

Misha shrugs again and sit on his working table. He’s not laughing anymore. “We never talk about having kids, you know? Vic doesn’t want to end the pregnancy, but she says she needs time to wraps her head around it.”

“Well, it’s still pretty new. I guess you need some time too, right?”

Misha snorts. “You never take your social worker mask off, do you? I’m terrified, Jared.” 

Jared takes the time to reassure his friend and when he leaves, more than an hour later, Misha seems more like his old self. Still excited by the news, as if the baby was his own, Jared calls Jensen on the way to pick him up, grinning like a fool alone in his car. Jensen doesn’t answer his cell, which is somewhat unusual, but since Jared is less than five minutes away, he doesn’t worry.

He knocks on Jensen’s door and doesn’t wait for an answer to make his way inside. “Jensen? You ready?” He asks, closing the door behind himself.

The apartment is silent. Jared feels a cold and sudden fear grip his heart and tighten his chest. He doesn’t bother taking his jacket off as he makes his way to the kitchen, then the living room. “Jensen? Come on, man. Where are you?”

Jensen’s glasses are on the floor besides the couch, like they’ve been drop there. Jared turns on his heels and runs to the bedroom.

He freezes on the threshold at the sight of Jensen lying on the floor near his bed, his body shaken by violent convolutions. “Oh, god,” Jared breathes, practically throwing himself on his knees next to his boyfriend. He notices immediately the wet stain on the front of his crotch and the small puddle of blood and foaming saliva on the floor next to Jensen’s head. Jensen’s lips have a bluish tint Jared has never seen before, and when he touches his skin he feels how cold and damp it is.

Something is so very wrong. Without thinking, Jared is up on his feet again and running to the kitchen while dialing 9-1-1 on his phone. He blurts something to the operator, hopes she can understand him despite his hysterical babbling. All the while, he’s fumbling in the fridge to grab the Valium. The woman at the other end of the line asks him something about the length of Jensen’s seizure. “I don’t know! I just got here and… He’s so cold and his lips are blue and he keeps convulsing. Something’s wrong. Please hurry!”

“The ambulance is on the way, sir. In the meantime, make sure his airways are clear and-“

“I know that!” Jared practically screams.

He’s back in Jensen’s room. There is no change in his condition. Jared kneels next to him, the Valium package in one hand, his phone in the other. “I can’t give him his med while talking to you,” he tells the woman, letting his phone drop on the floor without a second thought. He makes quick work of undoing Jensen’s pants despite the resistance and random jerks of his arms and legs. He pulls them down to his knees with his briefs and turns Jensen’s body to the side. A low grunting noise is swelling in Jensen’s throat. The convolutions are less violent, but quicker now. Jensen’s skin is white, the fine veins perfectly visible under it.

“Come on, Jensen,” Jared pleads, letting him go to open the Valium package. He doesn’t hesitate, just coats the suppository with the lubricant provided in the kit and inserts it, keeping a firm hold on Jensen’s hip with his other hand. He’s just finished when he hears the front door open and a voice calling out.

“Here! We’re in the bedroom!” He shouts, trying to pull Jensen’s briefs up before anyone else gets in the room because it seems somewhat indecent, having his boyfriend exposed like that. 

He doesn’t have time to finish before two paramedics come in and take things into their own hands. The woman settles next to Jensen while the man asks Jared questions in a calm voice that infuriates him. He keeps an eye on Jensen, pacing back and forth. “Why does he keep shaking? I gave him the Valium!”

“It dosen’t work straight away,” the man explains. “So, you were telling me it’s not-“

“Greg, I need O2 stat,” the woman cuts him off. “And he’s in hypothermia, pressure is low. We gotta move, come on. Possible status epilepticus.”

Jared can only stand back as the two paramedics work hard and fast, settling Jensen’s jerking body on the gurney, where they restrain it, working an O2 mask on his face and covering him with a strange, silver colored sheet.

He follows them to the door and gives as much infos as he can. This time, he’s not even asked if he wants to ride with them. The woman tells him that Jensen will be taken to York’s General and closes the door of the ambulance –Jensen is still convulsing.

Status epilepticus, Jared thinks, remembering what Jensen and Mackenzie had told him. When the seizures just won’t stop. That’s what the Valium’s for. He hadn’t realised how serious it was until now but the look on both paramedics’ faces, the way they’d rushed Jensen into the ambulance was unmistakeable.

What happens when a seizure just keeps going on? What if the Valium doesn’t work? Jared is still standing in the alley, paralyzed by the fear of what it could mean. Then suddenly, he has a mental image of the unnatural white tint of Jensen’s face, the color of his lips making him look like he’d just sucked on a purple lollipop. Jared snaps out of it. He barely takes the time to go back and shut Jensen’s apartment door before he jumps in his car and heads toward the hospital, trying to get Misha on his cell and driving way too fast. Jared doesn’t do well in these situations when he’s the one personally involved –which is kind of ironic, judging by how his calm and professionalism are praised by his superior.

He doesn’t want to be alone and Misha seems to understand immediately, even if Jared is certain none of the words he’s saying make sense. Misha orders him to hang up the phone before he kills somebody and promises to join him at the hospital.

::: :::

Now that Jared has identified himself as the patient’s boyfriend, he has gained the right to wait in a different room, with cosy chairs and a fancy looking coffee machine. He doesn’t want to think it’s because Jensen’s state is more serious than last time and that maybe this innocent-looking room is to conceal drama from the rest of the hospital.

As soon as he’d arrived and presented himself, a nurse had taken him to this room and told him that they were trying to stabilize Jensen and that a doctor would come and see him as soon as possible.

“Did the Valium worked? Is he still convulsing?”

“I don’t know, sir. Don’t worry, we’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”

Then she was gone, and Jared had felt the room closing in on him, narrowing its walls until he’d barely been able to breathe. He thinks he would have had some kind of panic attack if Misha hadn’t arrived at that moment.

And now they’re both sitting on a narrow leather couch. It’s been forty-five minutes since Jared arrived at the hospital.

“Stop biting your nail, you’re bleeding.” Misha warns softly.

Jared tastes the blood in his mouth and suck on the tip of his thumb, finding a strange satisfaction in it.

“Jared.”  
“It can’t be good. Can’t be good. It’s been too long,” he replies, feeling his fear swelling in his chest once again.

“I know it’s hard to wait. Want me to go ask the receptionist?”

“She told me she would call security if I bothered her one more time.”

“Fair enough.”

“I should have asked more questions about this status epilepticus stuff. I’m so, so stupid.”

“Hey, don’t say that. It wouldn’t have changed anything. You gave him the Valium. He was alone when it happened. It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah, he was alone while I was sitting in your garage drinking a beer. Should’ve gone directly to his place after work.”

“Jared,” Misha says calmly. “You’re not rational right now. Stop beating yourself up.”

“Mr Padaleki?”

A woman in her early forties is walking quickly toward them. She has a mop of dark curly hair at shoulder length and wears jeans and a plain blue blouse. The only clue that she may be a doctor is the stethoscope hanging around her neck.

Jared is already up to shake her hand. 

“Yeah. Is Jensen alright?”

“I’m his neurologist, Dr. Reinhardt. Why don’t we sit down?”

“I don’t want to sit down, I wanna know what’s going on with Jensen,” Jared replies, feeling Misha tugging softly at his shirt sleeve.

“Calm down, Jare.”

“We’ve succeeded in stabilizing him,” Dr Reinhardt says in a soothing voice.

“But?”

She doesn’t answer him, but instead sits in front of Misha, and Jared doesn’t have any other choice than to follow her lead.

“I wasn’t here when Mr. Ackles arrived. The E.R. doctor called me and I wasn’t too far from the hospital, luckily. When I got here, he was still in what we call a status epilepticus state.”

“I know, it’s when the seizure doesn’t stop.”

“The Valium you administered wasn’t enough and we had to use a combination of powerful sedatives and anti-epileptics to stop the seizure. The problem is, we don’t really know how long he convulsed before you got to his place but his general state at the time –blue lips, low blood pressure, ineffective breathing and hypothermia- suggests it was at least ten minutes. His body was exhausted.”

“Oh. God. But he’s alright now?”

“He’s deeply sedated and we had to intubate him because the drugs we used can depress the respiratory system.”

“But…”

Jared tries to find the words but his head is empty and his chest overloaded with fear swelling up and choking him. Misha pats him on the shoulder, silent and serious.

“Given Mr. Ackles’ history, I preferred to treat him aggressively right away. He was given a head scan and there are early signs of brain swelling but we won’t know for sure if there is any damage before he wakes up.”

“Damage? What do you mean, damage?”

“It’s too early to say.”

“He’s… But… I don’t understand. Is his life in danger?”

“No. As I’ve said, he’s stabilized. According to his medical file, last time he suffered from Status Epilepticus, he was able to recuperate completely and there was no permanent damage. I’m optimistic this time won’t be any different, but I can’t say for sure.”

And finally, finally, the neurologist’s words sink in. This has happened before. This has happened before and he hadn’t known about it, never realised that Jensen’s epilepsy could actually kill him. His hands start to shake and cold sweat beads on his forehead. 

“Can Jared see him?” Misha asks, taking the lead and keeping his hand on Jared’s back.

“He’s in ICU. A nurse will take you to the adjoining waiting room and as soon as he’s settled, you’ll be able to go see him, Mr. Padalecki. I’ll keep him sedated for the next twenty-four hours, just to be on the safe side, then we’ll gradually diminish the drug and pull him off the respirator.”

“Should we call his family?” Misha demands in an almost inaudible voice.

Dr. Reinhardt smiles sadly. “Yes, you should.”

::: ::: 

Misha takes control, for which Jared is glad. He feels like he’s walking through a thick fog, numbed by his own emotions. Misha asks if he has Mackenzie’s phone number, and Jared realizes he’s left his phone in his car. The fact almost puts him into a state of panic, he doesn’t know why. They’re in the ICU waiting room, alone. It’s bigger than the one for the E.R. but still gives Jared the same feeling of closing in on him and choking him.

“Okay, listen to me, Jared. Come on, man, focus,” Misha says, taking him by the shoulders.

“It’s on the passenger seat. I dropped it there when I…-“

“I know. I’ll take care of that. I’ll find it and call Mackenzie, alright? Don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah I… What kind of brain damage?”

“Brain-…? I don’t know, Jare. I’m sorry. Will you be alright here? Because I can call Gen or-“

“No, I’m okay. Just… Fuck. He’s going to be alright. I know it.”

Misha nods, his big blue eyes full of sympathy and sorrow. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay? Hang in there, man.”

That’s all Jared can do, unable to stay still. The room seems even narrower once Misha’s gone. Jared paces, chewing on the ravaged nail of his thumb. He doesn’t want to close his eyes because every time he does, he sees Jensen’s blue lips.

As blue as Jeff’s were when…

_Mommy! Jeff won’t wake up!_

No. No. Not now. Jared shakes his head like a stubborn child and lets out a nervous laugh.

It’s almost six in the afternoon when a nurse arrives in the waiting room. She’s young and sweet, pronounces Jared’s name with a soft, low voice.

“If you’re ready to come with me I’ll-“

“Yeah! Yeah I’m ready.”

Jared is already walking toward the door, but she stops him. “There are a few things we need to talk about before I take you to Mr. Ackles’ room.”

“Okay.”

“Now, is it the first time you’ve ever visited someone in intensive care?”

“Yeah.”

“It can be overwhelming, but don’t let the machines and wires and noise scare you. Your boyfriend is stable. His vitals are good and he’s being kept under close observation. He’s sedated but not unconscious, so don’t be surprised if he blinks or makes some noises or moves his arms and legs. The intubation is what looks the most scary but it’s only a precaution. He’s in a semi-sitting position to permit better ventilation. There are also a lot of thin wires connected to his head. They’re connected to an electroencephalogram machine. This way, we can monitor his brain activity to be sure nothing unusual is going on. And…”

Jared nods even though he doesn’t understand half of the words the nurse is saying. It doesn’t seem important, not as important as the urge he feels to be close to Jensen, to touch him, to see with his own eyes what epilepsy has done to him.

Finally, they’re in motion, and Jared walks between the glassed-in cubicles of the ICU. Most of them are empty. He feels his heartbeat accelerate. His chest expands to try and take as much air in as it possibly can. Then he sees Jensen behind the large pane of glass and his throat closes suddenly. “Oh god,” he rasps.

The nurse rubs his arm in an empathetic gesture. Jared takes a shuddering breath and enters the room, freezing on the threshold to take everything in. The machines, the beeps, the whoosh-whoosh of the respirator, the two IV drips, the smell, like plastic and sweat and antiseptic.

Jensen’s mouth is slightly open around the ventilator tube. His lips aren’t blue anymore, but a pinkish white. The rest of his skin is as white, but with an almost translucent tint, like it’s too thin, worn out by sickness. His eyes are closed –eyelids swollen and purplish. His hair is plastered against his head, different colored wires mixed in with the dark blond strands. His hands are resting over the sheets, perfectly immobile. A white hospital gown with a small, blue square pattern opens widely around his neck to make space for the heart monitor wires.

Jensen looks small and thin and violated, like his body belongs to this room, to the machines and drugs and illness. Jared swallows back a sob and walks toward the chair apparently waiting for him near the bed. It’s close enough so that he can bend and takes Jensen’s hand into his. His boyfriend winces slightly at the contact, then his features relax back.

“Can he hear me?” He barely recognises the thin, unsure voice escaping his lips.

“He’s not in a coma, Mr. Padalecki. I guess it depends on his level of consciousness and his reaction to the drugs.”

“Is he in pain? That… respirator thing, does it hurt him?”

“It’s uncomfortable, for sure, but the meds are too strong for Mr. Ackles to feel any pain.”

“Okay.”

“We’re just outside the room if you need anything.”

Once the nurse is gone, Jared scoots his chair closer to the bed and takes both of Jensen’s hands into his. Jensen’s left thumb brushes against his palm and his eyes move under his eyelids.

“I’m sorry,” Jared mumbles. “I should have been there, Jensen.”

Jensen frowns, like he wants to express his disapproval.

“M’not letting go of you, you know that?” Jared adds, and then he feels stupid. He settles closer to the bed and rests his head on both of their hands. Jensen’s warm, even seems a little bit too hot for his temperature to be normal. But it’s good, anything but the cold dampness that Jared had felt when he’d found him.

_Mommy! Jeff won’t wake up._

Oh god. It’s too late. It won’t leave him alone, not now anyway.

_“You’re a big boy now, Jared. And I want you to be good to your brother, do you understand?” his mother asked._

_“He doesn’t wanna play, doesn’t wanna do anything anymore.”_

_“It’s because he’s sick, you know that. He does wanna play, he just can’t. Now, if you were him, if you felt sick and tired all the time, would you like it?”_

_“Like that time when I had the flu and I puked because I was coughing so much, and then I couldn’t go play outside?”_

_“Yeah, exactly like that.”_

_“No, I didn’t like it. But it’s been forever, mom! Jeff’s been sick for a long time.”_

_“I know, baby, but now it’s your turn to be the big brother. Jeff can’t go play outside or have pillow fights with you, but there are some quiet activities he can do, like drawing, or playing video games or watching movies. And you can do those things with him.”_

_“Do you think he can play with play-doh?”_

_“I think he can. Now, why don’t you go into his room and see if he’s up to that.”_

_It was the beginning of the summer, but it didn’t felt like it. Everyone was very quiet in the house. There was no talking about going away on vacation, having picnics or going fishing with dad. Granny was always home, now, and she was cleaning the house, even when everything was clean, and picking up after Jared, putting his toys away in his room even when he was in the middle of a game. She was the one he had to stay with when mom and dad had to take Jeff to the hospital and she didn’t want to do anything with Jared, kept telling him to keep quiet. And then she would wash the windows even if she’d done it the day before and vacuum the hall’s carpet for the second time in the same day._

_Jared missed how it was before, when Jeff wasn’t sick and mom and dad weren’t so sad all the time and he could sing and talk and speak as loudly as he wanted to. And dad had promised they would get a puppy when school was over but he didn’t and Jared didn’t dare to ask because he knew, even if he couldn’t figure out why, that there would be no puppy this summer._

_He didn’t like thinking about all those sad things, so he ran into his room and got his plastic bucket full of play-doh. He and Jeff could create monsters and play Dr. Frankenstein’s lab and if Jeff wanted to mix the colors, Jared would let him, even though his play-doh was almost new, because Jared was sort of like the big brother now, right?_

_But then, when he entered his brother’s room, he found him asleep, which was weird because Jeff was sitting in his bed, and the Nintendo was still on, Mario asleep with his cap over his eyes outside Princess Peach’s castle, like when you hadn’t touched the controller for a long time, but hadn’t paused the game. Jeff had explained to him how to do it because he knows a lot of video game stuff._

_And Jeff’s head was resting forward, his chin on his chest. Jeff had lost his hair and it wouldn’t grow back until they stopped giving him those special pills at the hospital._

_Jared put his bucket on the bed and shook Jeff’s shoulder, but instead of waking, his brother slid slowly to the left until he was resting against the wall._

_“Jeff, come on!”_

_Jeff’s face was strange, all scrunched up, like he was in pain, and his lips were blue, but not a bright blue… more like grey, like the nails on his fingers._

_“Stop playing, Jeff. Wake up!” Jared shouted._

_“Jared, what’s going on?” He heard his mom ask as she climbed the stairs._

_“Mommy! Jeff won’t wake up!”_

_“What? Oh god! Jerry!”_

And then, and then mom…

“Mr. Padalecki?”

Jared’s eyes snap open and he wipes a tear from his cheek. He turns to look at the nurse.

“Visiting hours are over, I’m sorry, but it’s very strict in ICU.”

Jared presses Jensen’s hand one last time. “I’ll be back, m’just in the waiting room. Not going anywhere.” He says, voice gruff.

Jensen doesn’t respond in any way and as Jared walks slowly out of the room, he’s struck with the image of his eight year old brother’s lifeless body, and he can hear the desperate cries of his mother when she’s stepped into the room and dropped onto the bed, pushing Jared away.


	10. Voyeur of Utter Destruction (as beauty)

Jared meets Donna Ackles for the first time at six in the morning on November twenty-fourth. He hasn’t been home all night, even with the assurance that Jensen’s life isn’t in danger and that he will be called if anything happens.

The visiting hours in the ICU are very restricted and Jared has spent the night dozing between them, spending twenty minutes every two hours with Jensen. As worried as he feels when he’s with Jensen, as guilty, both of these feelings get engulfed in anxiety every time he has to leave the room, like his presence can prevent Jensen’s state from deteriorating.

The previous evening, Dr. Reinhardt had come to see him around eight. She’d sat with him and asked a lot of questions about Jensen’s general state over the last month, nodding and frowning and taking notes. Then, she’d told him that they had done another head scan and the brain swelling hadn’t gotten worse. It would take some time for it to subside completely, she had said as she patted him on the back. “This is good news, Mr. Padalecki.”

He just wants Jensen to open his eyes and look at him. When he’d asked Dr. Reinhardt about what kind of brain damage could have been done, she’d refused to tell him. “I don’t want you to get upset over something we can’t know about for sure until Mr. Ackles regains consciousness. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

Maybe she’s right. It hadn’t stopped Jared from imagining all sorts of horrible scenarios as the night went by.

Misha has been the one keeping contact with the Ackles family. Mackenzie and Donna managed to catch a red eye flight and he was the one to pick them up at the airport. Jared is vaguely aware that Misha has arranged for both women to stay at Jensen’s place. He’d called Jared from the airport, telling him that they preferred to come to the hospital first.

When Jensen’s mother enters the waiting room, followed by Mackenzie, Jared braces himself, ready to take the blame of not having been there for Jensen, but the middle aged woman looks at him with affection, smiling sadly, and takes him into her arms, hugging him close.

“Nice to meet you, Jared,” she says before letting him go. She takes him by the shoulders and looks at him. “Wish it was under better circumstances.”

Mackenzie is suddenly next to him, one of her hands rubbing his back. Her eyes are puffy and red and when she speaks, her voice is uneasy, gruff. “Hey, how are you doing?”

“I’m sorry,” is all Jared manages to say before he bursts into tears like a freaking giant baby, unable to help himself, and this time, it is Mac who hugs him tight.

“Come on. None of this is your fault.”

“Should’ve been there,” Jared hiccups. “I didn’t know. How bad it could get. I’m so, so sorry.”

Someone is tugging on his arm, and he raises his head to look at Donna Ackles through the mist of his tears. Her lips are reduced to a thin white line, reminding him of Jensen whenever he’s annoyed or angry.

“Okay, Jared, I don’t know you, but I know what it’s like to be close to Jensen and you have to stop this right now. Guilt is going to eat you alive. No one and nothing is to blame except Jensen’s illness. I want you to get your head around that. Do I make myself clear?”

Jared nods and wipes his tears with the sleeve of his shirt. Misha suggests sitting down which is kind of a good idea since Jared’s legs are about to buckle. Donna and Mackenzie know everything there is to know. They both look exhausted. Donna explains that her husband couldn’t make it, to which Mackenzie reacts immediately.

“No, he could make it. My father has trouble with hospitals and well… Jensen being in them.”

“Mac, don’t start.”

“I don’t blame him, mom. I know it’s hard for dad. I just wish he was here with us.”

“I know, honey.”

The call from the nurses’ station announcing the beginning of the visiting period startles all of them. “Only two people are allowed back at a time,” Jared says. “You go.”

“Okay,” Misha says as soon are Mackenzie and Donna leave the room. “Do you want me to take you home? You can shower and sleep for a few hours. They won’t take Jensen off the respirator before tonight.”

“No, I wanna stay,” Jared replies in a dull voice.

“Yeah, I knew you would say that,” Misha sighs, and then produces a bag seemingly out of nowhere. “Brought you a change of clothes and your personal stuff if you wanna shower. There’s a bathroom for ICU families on this floor.”

Jared nods slowly. “Thank you Misha. For being there and… you know.”

Misha smiles. “I know.”

::: :::

The day drags by. Nobody talks much. Misha spends most of it at work. Mac sleeps on one of the leather couches for the better part of the afternoon, tucked in a ball under a rough hospital blanket. Dr. Reinhardt isn’t supposed to be back until the evening because she wants to be there when Jensen has his ventilator tube removed.

Around four o’clock, it’s time for another visit. Mackenzie is still sleeping so Jared accompanies Donna. It’s the first time they’ve gone together –he went with Mac earlier, but not with Donna, and he feels a little intimidated. A nurse is waiting for them at the entrance of Jensen’s room. She whispers. Everybody whispers in the ICU, even with the loud noise of the machines.

“We started to cut down the sedative dosage earlier this afternoon, so he may seem a little more awake to you. We’re monitoring him closely to make sure there is no abnormal activity in his brain. He may fight his ventilation tube even if he still seems unconscious. Just call me if that happens.”

Donna rolls her eyes as she enters the room. “He hates the ventilator.” She says fondly, as if Jensen is a little kid who doesn’t like broccoli.

She sits on the chair near the bed and takes Jensen’s hand. There is no sign that he’s more aware of his surroundings. “Hey, baby,” she says and runs her fingers through Jensen’s hair, carefully avoiding the wires. “We’re here. I’m with Jared.”

Jared shrugs, feeling like the world’s clumsiest giant as he goes to stand on the other side of the bed. “Hey, Jensen.”

“He’s still pretty out of it,” Donna murmurs without turning her eyes away from Jensen’s pale face. 

“Yeah.”

“I just hope it won’t be like last time,” Donna adds. 

“Was it… was it bad?”

“Yes it was.”

“Can’t the doctors do anything about this… status epilepticus stuff?”

Donna smiles, but her eyes remain serious. “They did all they could, but the kind of epilepsy Jensen has makes him vulnerable to this because the frontal lobe is involved. First time it happened, he’d been diagnosed for less than a year. His father was with him at the time. He was easily stabilised as soon as he got to the hospital but still, it was scary. Second time though, two years ago, Jensen was alone. His… boyfriend-“

She looks at Jared, biting her lower lip as if she’s said something wrong.

“Yeah, Matt. He told me about him.”

“Well, Matt found him, just like you did. That time, we almost lost him. He had to be put under general anesthesia to get the seizure to stop and huh… he had this weakness on the entire left side of his body when he came back.

“Brain damage,” Jared whispers in a thin voice.

“Yeah but he… He recuperated completely,” Donna adds. “I didn’t want to upset you, Jared. But still, I prefer to be as realistic as possible under the circumstances. It’s a thing I’ve learned over the years.”

“He’s gonna be alright,” Jared says because he can’t think any differently.

Jensen opens his eyes briefly then, and it’s so sudden both Jared and Donna are startled for a moment.

“Never liked when I talked about you behind your back, huh, Jay?” Donna asks softly.

Jared waits for another movement, a sound, anything, but all Jensen gives them is a frown that lasts less than a second. Then, it’s already time to leave the room. Jared waits for Donna to go out before he presses a light kiss to Jensen’s forehead. The young man is shaken by a soft shiver, then it’s over.

::: :::

_Jensen is standing in the kitchen of his parent’s house in Richardson. His mother is angry at him, shaking a bunch of paper sheets in front of his face. He doesn’t understand. He thought she was mad about the lip ring, but then, the lip ring was before… way before._

_“Mr. Morrisson is very disappointed in you, Jensen. He says you won’t be able to finish your work on time.”_

_Jensen wants to answer, but his words stay locked in his throat, and he falls on the floor, and there must be a fire somewhere because the smell of smoke is everywhere._

_His mother bends over him, her pearl necklace shining strangely in the daylight. “Why do I even care? You won’t listen to anybody but your own selfish self. It’s a thing I’ve learned over the years.”_

_Then he’s floating. No house, no ground or sky or up or down, and he’s cold, and something touches him in the dark, and he shivers._

_Do you have a death wish, Jensen?_

_Chris sings, voice deep and slurry with whisky. “When the kids had killed the man I had to break up the band.”_

_No, it’s not my fucking fault, Jensen screams, but he can’t hear his own voice, and his throat is swelling with words unsaid. He’s choking. Can’t breathe._

_We just want to understand what happened to you at school. You had a seizure, Jensen. Are you on any drugs?_

_NO! He articulates silently. I can’t breathe! Please help me. Can somebody just help me?_

“Mr. Ackles? Jensen? Please calm down. Can you hear me?”

He can’t breathe. He’s going to die. He’s… Something in his throat. Has to take it out, cough it out, puke it out.

“You got him, Cat?”

“He has the strength of a kitten. Don’t worry about me.”

“Jensen? Hey, Jensen. Open your eyes. Look at me.”

The voice is so loud and clear and he wants to listen to it. Something is pushing on his chest. His heart beats hard and painfully. He can’t fight anymore. He’s held back by something, someone. Tired, so tired.

::: :::

Dim lights. The weight of his body on the bed. The noise of the ventilator in rhythm with the movement of his chest. The nurse speaks of a seizure and hospital, and he tries to focus but it’s so hard. He keeps drifting off until he feels a sharp pain on his nail.

Dr. Reinhardt’s face blocks the light. “… Cough real hard, as hard as you can. Do you understand?”

Jensen nods. He can keep his eyes open without too much effort. He’s gripping the sheets and bracing himself. He knows it’s going to hurt.

“On three, alright? One, two, three.”

He coughs, feeling pulled forward as something rips his throat, the burning sensation so intense it’s like someone’s tearing his lung out from the inside by way of his mouth.

He heaves, coughs again, and then…

_Can’t breathe._ He struggles weakly, falling back on the mattress and something is pulled around his head to cover his mouth and nose. 

“Yes, that’s it, breathe, Jensen. Focus on breathing.”

His eyes are clenched shut and he’s sweating. His legs jerk helplessly. _Breathe._

His chest rises slowly. That’s it. The air is cold and feels good going down his throat and into his lungs. He relaxes on the bed, not daring to move, to do anything that could bring the panic back and prohibit him from breathing. 

“Look at me, Jensen.”

He does. Dr. Reinhardt is still there, eyes looking too big behind black rimmed glasses. “Do you know where you are?”

He mumbles a raspy “hospital” that sounds strange in the oxygen mask, then adds, because his tongue feels like it’s twice its usual size. “Water.”

“He’s talking,” Dr. Reinhardt says, smiling like it’s some kind of miracle.

::: :::

Jared is aware that he must be getting on everybody’s nerves. He can’t help himself. A nurse had come in ten minutes ago to tell them that the removal of the tube had gone without any problems and that Jensen was slowly waking up from the sedation, but they still couldn’t go to see him, not until Dr. Reinhardt had finished performing a neurological exam. Jared had asked if it looked like Jensen had suffered any damage, but the nurse wouldn’t answer him.

So he’s pacing while Misha, Mackenzie and Donna sit close to each other, as if he’s doing some sort of performance and they’re spectators. 

“He’s going to be okay,” Jared states for the fifth time in less than fifteen minutes.

“Yeah,” Mackenzie mumbles, but she’s awfully pale under the yellowish light.

Her mother is silent, gazing at an undetermined point in front of her. Misha makes a discreet motion toward Jared, silently inviting him to sit down before the tension in the room becomes unbearable.

Then, Dr. Reinhardt walks into the room and it’s like time comes to a halt. Jared is holding his breath, reading the woman’s face for some kind of clue about Jensen’s condition. She has a light smile tugging at her lips, and that’s good, isn’t it?

“He’s doing good,” she says.

Mackenzie and Donna stand up and join Jared, expectant looks on their faces.

“Good like…” Jared starts eagerly.

“Good like there is no signs of brain damage so far. The neurological test is normal if we take the sedation into consideration. He responds well to stimulation, there is no sign of abnormal weakness whatsoever and he’s well oriented. We’ll have to keep him under close observation for the next few days and I’ve scheduled an MRI for tomorrow morning, but so far it doesn’t seem like there will be any significant after effects. 

“Okay,” Jared agrees eagerly, a nervous laugh escaping before he can rein it in. 

Mackenzie bursts into tears next to him, while Donna lets out a hiccupping sigh. 

“Can we see him?” Jared asks.

::: ::: 

The nurse has replaced his oxygen mask with a nasal canula. He’s sitting, lying against the mattress, body heavy and aching. There is a water glass on the nightstand in front of him with a straw resting in it and damn it, he’s thirsty, but he can’t bring himself to gather the energy and coordination necessary to pick it up. The machines beep around him. He tries to stay awake and keep track of what’s happening, of everything Dr. Reinhardt has told him, but his mind wanders on and off.

“Jensen, hey.”

He turns his head slowly to follow the voice. His eyes hurt, as they always do after a serious seizure. Jared is there, looking tired and scared, his hair falling in dull bangs in front of his eyes. 

“Hey,” he says, but it comes out like a slurred and thin, “heeeeeey”.

“I’m… How’re you feeling?” Jared walks slowly towards him and sits carefully on the chair near the bed.

“High,” Jensen says, trying to smile, but it’s way too difficult to maintain it.

“I… fuck, Jensen, I…” Jared clears his throat and swallows loudly. He’s on the verge of crying and Jensen can’t take it. He just can’t.

“Hey, m’alright, Jare.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when it happened. Should’ve been.” 

There it goes. It’s Matt all over again, and Jensen wants to feel frustrated, and annoyed, but it’s so hard to try and work around the thick fog covering his mind. 

And he’s thirsty.

“C’n you help me with the glass of water?” He asks, his mouth already watering at the idea. He’ll worry about his dignity later.

Jared nods eagerly and brings the glass to his mouth until his lips can close around the straw. And damn if it isn’t the best water Jensen has ever had. He closes his eyes and swallows.

When he opens them, strangely, the straw isn’t in his mouth anymore and Jared is holding his hands. 

“Wha’?”

“You drifted off for a couple of minutes.”

“Sorry.”

Jared presses his hand tighter, eyes shining bright, and Jensen thinks maybe sleeping is his best defense right now.

“Did I… hallucinate it, or is my mother here?”

“She’s here. Mackenzie’s here too. They kind of sent me to tell you so you wouldn’t be shocked.”

“That’s stupid.”

Jared blushes. “We had to call your family. Dr. Reinhardt told me she explained to you what happened.”

“No, I mean… Yeah… I don’t blame you or… Fuck, m’too tired to talk.”

“You don’t have to,” Jared quickly says. “You need to rest,”

Jensen couldn’t agree more. Already, all hid coherent thoughts are dissolving in his valium stupor. “Saved my life,” He slurs, trying to smile at Jared. Colors are bright, Jared’s smell is agreeably familiar and comforting, and if Jensen lets go, lets everything go, he doesn’t have to feel anything anymore. Not really.

“I’m so relieved you’re okay,” Jared murmurs, lowering the bed rail. 

Jensen looks at him through heavy eyelids and keeps smiling, or whatever his mouth is doing right now. Jared sits closer to the bed, enough to rest his head on the mattress near Jensen’s shoulders. He puts his arm around Jensen’s waist.

“Am I hurting you?”

“No… Feels good,” Jensen says, because it does. His boyfriend is warm and heavy against him. 

“Gonna stay here until they throw me out of the room,” Jared says. “Just wanna feel you close to me.”

Something in Jared’s voice gets to Jensen, and the embryo of an idea, of a thought, starts to form in his mind. He tries to catch it lazily but it’s too late and he succumbs to his medicated sleep.

::: :::

It takes two more days for Jensen to start to feel like himself again, two more days before the enormity of what has happened finally sinks in. 

He sleeps or dozes most of the time during those two days. His doctor doesn’t want to entirely take him off the Valium too soon and his body is slowly recuperating from the extended seizure episode. He has a private room in the neurology department –his health insurance costs a fortune due to his medical condition, but it has its upside. He’s poked at, asked the same questions over and over again, is dragged on a gurney to have his head scanned two times. There is always someone with him - Mac, his mother, Jared, sometimes a combination of them. Misha comes with Vicky once, his father calls twice a day and he receives this gigantic flower arrangement from the literature department.

During those two days, nobody talks much because he can’t keep a conversation going for more than five minutes, can’t concentrate on anything more than the bare necessities. He knows what happened to him even if he doesn’t remember much after taking a taxi from Umaine after his meeting with Morrisson.

Sunday morning, Dr. Reinhardt comes to see him early in the morning. He feels like his mind is clearer even if his body is still sluggish. They talk for a long time. She speaks about stress and anxiety and the danger of experiencing another episode of status epilepticus. He knows all that, knows his epilepsy will most probably kill him one day, sooner rather than later. Still, his doctor wants to introduce a new medication, a drug traditionally used to treat anxiety and psychosis that has recently been discovered to be effective as an anti-epileptic as well, showing promising results for the kind of epilepsy that’s known to be drug resistant. Jensen doesn’t get his hopes too high. “Promising results” can be translated as “might work if we’re lucky” but hey, what’s another pill to take with his usual cocktail?

He’s then given the number to a private nursing agency that works with chronically ill people to provide a surveillance service. It can go from a daily call to extended home care. Dr. Reinhardt has already put in a call to the agency and insists that he use the service. “Let’s not fool ourselves here, Jensen. You’re riding the line of functional epilepsy. You live alone. Even if you take every precaution possible, you’re at high risk of suffering the consequences of your seizures.”

Jensen agrees, even if it’s just to get Dr. Reinhardt to change the subject. He has a lot of thinking to do, that much he knows. 

He asks if he’ll be released soon, pestering the staff so much that his doctor agrees to let him go home the next day if he will give her the assurance he won’t be left alone for long periods for the next week or so, which isn’t a problem since his mother won’t go back to Richardson until he kicks her out of his apartment. Jensen doesn’t like the idea of depending on people so much, but he can’t bear the thought of staying in the hospital any longer. Last time he’d been admitted for a status epilepticus, he’d stayed in the hospital for three weeks because of the consequences of the seizure. Those three weeks are still to this day the worst period of his life and he does whatever he can not to think about them. He needs out, the sooner the better.

Dr. Reinhardt signs the release paper for the following day on the condition, of course, that he doesn’t have another epileptic episode before then. She puts him on strict rest for two weeks, with a progressive return to work after that –if he still has a job - and schedules him an appointment at her office. When she finally leaves the room, Jensen’s exhausted. He wants to go back to sleep, to the sweet oblivion of the drugs, but he can’t reach it.

Not enough drugs anymore. And the last few weeks come back to hit him like a slap in the face, all the messed-up things Jared had put up with until he’d finally administered a freaking valium suppository in his convulsing boyfriend’s ass and suffered through twenty-four hours of not knowing how his boyfriend would be when he woke up. Jared, who so carefully avoids looking at the urine collection bag hanging on the bottom of Jensen’s bed so as not to embarrass him. Jared, who now speaks to him in a too soft, too careful voice, like Jensen could break just from hearing a harsh tone.

And why fool himself? He’s that breakable. How could Jared see him any other way? Toward the end of his hospitalisation two years ago, Matt’s way of looking at him had become unbearable, the pity and concern practically pouring off of him. It had reached its breaking point when Matt had told him he was looking for another job so he could be closer to home even though he’d dreamed of working with the law firm that had hired him ever since he’d started college. 

How would a relationship ever work if one of the parties had to sacrifice everything for the other? And Jensen, who’d been that other –how was he supposed to live with that?

He does falls asleep, after a while, only to dream of an empty road in the middle of the night, split by a yellow line on which he walks. Alone.

::: :::

“Jensen!”

“What?”

“You’re falling asleep. It’s your turn to play.”

“Huh. Okay. Wait, I got a word… Oh, yeah, if this doesn’t win me the game…”

Jensen takes all the letters from his slot and pretends to read aloud while putting them on the board. “pain-in-the-ass-little…”

“Shut up!” Mackenzie replies, scrambling all the letters on the board until no word is visible anymore. “I get it. Scrabble sucks.”

She leans back on her chair and sighs, looks at Jensen from under her lashes, all grave and serious all of sudden.

It’s Sunday night, almost seven o’clock, and the hospital wing is quiet. Jensen is in bed, leaning against the headboard in a sitting position. All he has left is an IV line to keep a vein open, just in case. His Foley catheter has been taken off–the burn is still there, though, god he hates it. He’s almost ready to go. One last night and then he’s out of here.

He has insisted so much on being released and he now wonders what’s so great about going home when he’s barely able to walk by himself, with his mother hovering around him constantly. He sighs, closes his eyes.

“Hey, you’re drifting off again,” Mackenzie says softly. “I should leave you to rest.”

“No, stay. If I fall asleep now I’ll be wide awake at one in the morning and it’ll suck big time.”

He’s lying. He would sleep through until morning. He’s still so tired. But Mackenzie is catching an early flight tomorrow morning and it’s evident she wants to spend as much time as she can with him. 

Mackenzie rolls the table away without bothering to put the scrabble game back in its box. She drags her chair closer and begins to play with the hem of the sheet jutting out of the bed.

“Wish I didn’t have to go,” she murmurs in a small voice, and she looks so young suddenly it kind of crushes Jensen’s heart a little. “Mom treats me like I’m still ten years old.”

“Come on. You have your photography project to work on and you barely had time to go back to Texas before you had to come back here.”

“It’s not the same.”

“I know,” Jensen cuts off before they start talking about life and death and love and all those things he has so much trouble dealing with. “But you won’t miss anything. You know how impossible I am whenever I’m like this. Mom is doing you a favor.”

“Maybe you and Jared can come home for Christmas?” she asks hopefully.

“I don’t… Jared’s parents are coming back on Christmas so I don’t think he’ll want to spend it away from them.”

Besides, I don’t know if we’ll still be together at Christmas, Jensen thinks. Seeing the way Mackenzie all but pouts, he adds, “But maybe I will.”

“No. You should spend the Holidays with him.”

“Really?”

“Can’t you see how worried he is about you, how much he loves you? This guy… Promise me you’ll never let him go.”

“I can’t make that kind of promise,” Jensen replies with irritation because he knows Mac is thinking about Matt. Hell, _he_ is thinking about Matt. 

His sister knows him way too well.

“You can promise me you won’t be as stupid as last time,” Mackenzie snaps.

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Of course you don’t.”

Mackenzie can be stubborn. It’s a family trait. Still, Jensen can’t indulge her. Some wounds never really heal -doesn’t matter that you were the one inflicting them on yourself in the first place. Sometimes, the best you can do is put a Bandaid over them and pretend they don’t exist.

“Listen, I’m sorry. I’m… I’ve been so scared of what could have happened to you and I kept thinking about last time and…” Mackenzie shrugs and waves her hand in the air dismissively.

“It’s okay. I get it. How’s mom doing?”

Change of subject. Great tactic, Jensen. Very smooth.

“You know how she is - cleaning your place and cooking like her life depends on it. She also went shoping yesterday; bought you a couple of shirts.”

“Jesus.”

Mackenzie smiles. “One of them is pink. I mean, she says it’s “salmon”, but it’s definitely pink.”

Jensen groans and rearranges himself on the bed. “Oh man. How long is she going to stay?”

“Well, if you let her, probably forever.”

“I’m screwed.”

“It’s been hard for her,” Mackenzie says more seriously. “And I mean, since you left Richardson.”

“Here we go.”

“Okay, I’ll shut up. I swear. Just… try to be nice to her, alright?”

They’re interrupted by an orderly bringing Jensen a cup of Jello and some cookies. Classic hospital snack. He gives Mackenzie the cookies. As tight as his throat feels right now, he’s not even sure he can get away with eating the Jello. After they’re done, his sister settles next to him on the bed for a few minutes, laying her blond head on Jensen’s shoulder. He lets her get away with it.

::: :::

Early Monday morning, Jensen is sitting in the chair near his bed. He’s dressed and shaved, his bag is packed. He’s waiting for his mother to come pick him up. Frustrated and impatient, he fights the sleep that’s trying to pull him under. It’s taken all his energy to drag himself to the bathroom and get ready. Twice he’s had to sit on the closed toilet lid to fight off a dizzy spell.

He hates nothing more than feeling his body’s betrayal. Maybe he should be used to it by now, but he feels the same way every time.

“Hey, ready to go?”

Jensen jumps in surprise. He must have dozed off. Again. Jared is in the doorway, holding onto the handles of a wheelchair.

“What are you doing here? My mom was supposed to come get me after dropping Mac at the airport.”

“My fault. I insisted.”

Jared smiles and winks at him, going for enthusiasm, but his features are pale, tensed by exhaustion and worry.

“Jare. Come on. You’re missing work again.” 

“Don’t worry about that, okay? My boss relocated a social worker from the homeless community program who has been covering my case load since Thursday. Everything is okay.” Jared says as he gets the wheelchair closer and sits on it, facing Jensen. 

“Everything is not okay,” Jensen snaps. “You can’t stop living because I had a seizure, Jared.”

“Hey, don’t be an idiot. I wanted to be here. Nobody forced me. Besides, it wasn’t only a seizure, Jensen. So? Ready to go or not?”

Jared’s smile has disappeared from his face, replaced by a darker expression Jensen can’t quite figure out. He doesn’t even have the energy to try. 

“I don’t need the wheelchair,” he says, standing up slowly.

“Hospital policy.”

Jensen puts on his coat, losing his balance for a second while trying to slide his arm into the sleeve, and Jared’s right there next to him, concern visible all over his face, his arm already supporting Jensen by the waist. He can’t help it, the toll of the last few days suddenly takes its hideous hold on him and he snaps, pushing Jared away. “Damn it, I can stand on my own, Jared!”

Jared immediately backs off, head bowed like a small kid caught doing something he shouldn’t have. “Sorry. I thought you were going to fall.”

“I’m fine.”

He regrets immediately his harsh words and feels a blush of shame rising on his cheeks. He doesn’t apologise, though, just finishes dressing himself and then sits stubbornly in the wheelchair while Jared takes his bag.

“We’re gonna have to stop at the drugstore,” Jensen says. “New prescription.”

“No problem,” Jared answers very softly.

The ride to the hospital entrance is accomplished in silence. Jensen hates the looks people give him. He knows what he looks like: a poor man crumpled in a wheelchair, looking like he’s just come back from the brink of death, face white and deep blue circle under his eyes, blinking away tears of irritation because of the crude light.

After a moment, he just closes his eyes until the cold outside air hits him, triggering a violent shiver that runs through his body.

“You okay?” Jared asks.

“Never been better,” Jensen mumbles, burying his face in his scarf.

“I’ll go get the car.”

“Yeah.” 

He doesn’t protest that he can walk through the parking lot, because he knows he can’t. It seems to take forever before Jared comes back. The cold wind is hitting his face, making him feel numb and sick. Weak. He wants to sleep. Sleep for a long time and forget everything that has happened to him during the last few days.

The heat in the car is turned to the maximum but he can’t shake off the cold sensation stiffening his body and making his teeth chatter. Jared gives him quick, concerned looks when he thinks Jensen won’t notice. 

“We need to talk,” Jared says suddenly, like he’s been restraining himself until he couldn’t anymore.

“Talk about what? Jared, I know it’s a lot to deal with. I know it must’ve been hard for you and I’m sorry, really sorry for having put you through this. But I’m… I can’t have this kind of conversation right now.”

“I…. that wasn’t…”

“Unless you want to tell me that you can’t deal with all this –which, I would totally understand by the way, I don’t want to talk about my epilepsy or my freaking grand mal or my family.”

Jensen isn’t quite sure where all of this is coming from, but it’s like he can’t shut up, like every dark thought he’s been having since he woke up to find himself intubated has been bottled up and he can’t keep it inside of him anymore.

“I don’t want to leave you,” Jared says. “That’s not what I was going to tell you, Jensen.”

Then, suddenly, all the tenderness and sweetness is gone from Jared’s voice and he hits the steering wheel, hard, his face getting redder by the second. “Damn it! Why are you…”

“Why am I what?”

“You could’ve died! You could’ve died and I… I’m trying to do what I think you want me to do, trying to act like that’s no big deal but it is, damn it. “ 

“Can’t you see how screwed up our relationship is?” Jensen snaps back, and maybe that’s what he’s been thinking all along, that’s what made him so depressed and short-tempered at the hospital. He just hasn’t been able to face it.

“What?”

“I mean, it started all wrong. You know it. We’ve been together for less than three months and you’ve had to deal with my freaking epilepsy almost daily. That’s all there’s been between us. You’ve had to take care of me over and over again, fuck. You missed work, you had to deal with my family, my friends, and… and-“

“Stop it.”

“No, I won’t. You wanted to talk. Let’s talk. Let’s talk about Jared and Jensen’s fucked up relationship. Just because you’re a social worker doesn’t mean that you have to find it normal.”

“Jensen.”

“I’m not one of your battered women who needs your help. That’s not what I want to be.”

“I know that! How can you think…? Where does that come from?”

Jared stops the car in the parking lot of the pharmacy. His face is beet red, his eyes wide with anger and incomprehension. 

“Where can we go from here? Tell me,” Jensen says, trying to swallow back the tears swelling up in his throat. “I’m… I’m just a fucking mess. I’m a mess, you understand me? There’s nothing more to say. I’ll probably die before I reach my thirties if I go on like this. It was stupid to think I could have a go at a normal life, and I never wanted you to be caught up in it.” 

“Jensen, don’t say that.” Jared’s tone is almost pleading now. “Stop. Right now, okay?”

“What’s the matter? Is it because I’m telling you the truth?”

“Listen to me,” Jared says in an almost menacing voice. 

“No, you listen to me!” Jensen practically yells.

“Jensen, damn it!” Jared screams louder, all the while undoing his safety belt. 

He turns toward Jensen like he wants to launch himself on him. On instinct, Jensen tries to pull back and when Jared’s hands flies out of nowhere to cup his face, he freezes in place, not liking what he sees in Jared’s eyes.

“I’ve listened to you, now it’s your turn,” Jared murmurs. “I know what you’re trying to do. You want to push me away but it won’t work. However hard you try, I’m not going to leave you.”

“Shut up.” Jensen fights weakly in Jared’s embrace, lowers his eyes so he at least won’t have to look at him head on.

“It’s the truth. I love you. Right now, you’re sick, and you’re scared, and I get it.”

“I’m not fucking scared,” Jensen snarls, knowing he’s lying through his teeth.

“And I’m scared too,” Jared goes on without missing a beat. “And we’re both exhausted and life just sucks right now. I don’t want to hear another negative word out of you. You need to get better, then we’ll spend the rest of our lives talking if that’s what you want.”

On these words, Jared snatches the prescription out of Jensen’s shaking hands and gets out of the car. Jensen can’t think or move or do anything other than digest what has just happened.

::: :::

Jared keeps it together until he’s out of Jensen’s view. When he finally turns the corner of the drugstore, he leans on the wall and swears loudly, hitting the back of his head against the bricks. 

“Wanted to talk to you about Jeff,” he murmurs to the freezing morning. 

It was bad timing anyway. Jensen needs him right now. 

Jared can do this. 

He can.


	11. Get Real

It’s like a truce has settled between Jensen and his mother. The first three days of his return home, they carefully avoid delicate subjects. Donna cooks and takes care of the house. Jensen sleeps. Jared calls every day but hasn’t asked if he can come by. They talk as if nothing has happened between them, like their fight has been put on ice until further notice. 

He knows what Jared is doing - giving him some space to get himself back together. Jensen isn’t scared his boyfriend is going to leave him, he’s scared he’s going to stay. Which… what does that says about him?

Jensen still feels like he’s dosed up on Valium, but he knows there isn’t much left in his system. What’s left is his body’s need to recuperate and the side effects of the new med he’s taking: nausea, sleepiness, and headaches. He’s learned to deal with anti-epileptic drugs over the years and knows the side-effects, however bad they are, are going to subside eventually. 

On Thursday December 1st, Jensen calls the literature department. Sandra, the receptionist, keeps him on the phone for ten minutes to chat about how Morrisson feels guilty for having put unnecessary pressure on him. Figures. He tells Sandra it’s not Morrisson’s fault and adds that he won’t keep a job just because his boss wants to redeem himself. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re doing a great job. Everyone agrees on that. And if your seizure got Morrisson to realise he’s an asshole, well, he only deserves it.”

Jensen makes some arrangements to send what’s left of the work he’s done in the last few weeks through email. Luckily, he’d been ahead in his work and there is nothing left for him to do until the exam corrections during the third week of December. He’ll have recuperated enough by then. He doesn’t tell Sandra that he doesn’t know if he’ll be back for the winter semester. One thing at a time 

Later that day, his mother comes back from the supermarket with enough food to feed him for two months. He helps her put the groceries away. He has to sit down after standing for twenty minutes, but he feels well enough to stay in the kitchen with her. 

“Why don’t you invite Jared to come and have dinner with us tonight?” His mother asks without looking at him, busying herself putting the vegetables in the fridge. “I can cook the roast beef; it’s more than enough for the three of us.”

“I don’t know. I… I think he needs some time on his own.”

Her reply comes back as sudden and harsh as a slap in the face.

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

Donna sighs and turns toward him, crossing her arms. “He was at the hospital almost constantly when you were there, and then suddenly you’re home and you haven’t seen him in three days.”

“Can I have a coffee?”

“Don’t change the subject. And no, you can’t have coffee. Doctor said at least a week without coffee.” 

Jensen wonders for a second if every adult man feels like a five year old when exposed to the glare of his mother.

“So?” Donna asks.

“So nothing. I… We had this discussion in the car and it… We were both tired and we said some stuff. And… Fuck, mom. This is my personal life.”

“Watch your language.”

“Jesus!”

“Jensen, what’s going on? I mean, I’ve tried to give you time to rest and get better and not to bother you with things that could be upsetting, but you just… sleep and listen to music and you won’t talk to me.”

“What do you want to talk about?” Jensen asks, his voice rising. “Have we finally gotten to the part where you say I told you so? Because I can feel how eager you are to do so.”

“Why would I say I told you so?” Donna demands, looking genuinely surprised which only irritates Jensen more.

“Oh, come on! You never got over my decision to move away from Richardson. _You can’t take care of yourself, Jensen. You’re like a child throwing a temper tantrum. You’re being careless. Someone in your condition shouldn’t be living so isolated._ There, and now it’s happened. I had a freaking grand mal seizure. So, I’m asking again, when are you going to tell me I told you so?”

Donna’s face pales as her mouth drops open. She takes the few steps separating her from the counter and stands right in Jensen’s space, looking at him intently.

“I never wished for something like this to happen, baby. Maybe I don’t understand why you needed to go so far away from us, and yes, I’ve been worrying every single day since you’ve been gone, but I could never wish for something bad to happen to you just to prove my point.”

Jensen blinks at the sting in his eyes. Stupid pills that make him over emotional –or he tries to convince himself that it’s the drug’s fault, anyway.

“Maybe you were right,” is what comes out of his mouth, and he’s as surprised as his mother to hear it.

“Right about what, Jay?”

“It was stupid to think I could have this normal life. Just because the people here haven’t spent years dealing with my epilepsy doesn’t make it go away. I thought… and then I met Jared and I thought I could…”

“Jensen.”

“No, let me finish. I thought I could have a go at it, that everything would be different this time. But I was wrong.”

“Wrong about what? Falling in love with a wonderful guy who’s crazy about you?”

“No. Wrong about thinking we could have a normal relationship.”

“Jensen, don’t do that,” his mother warns in a cold voice. “You’re looking at this the wrong way. Moving here for the wrong reasons is one thing. Building a life is another one entirely. You have friends, a job, a boyfriend. You can’t give up. Not now.”

“You don’t understand.” Jensen mumbles, because this conversation has taken its toll on him and he feels drained of whatever energy he had managed to build.

“I’m your mother, Jay. And I’ve seen what epilepsy has done to you. I’ve seen how bad it was for you two years ago, how difficult it’s been. And I’m telling you that you’re not in the right frame of mind to make this kind of decision right now, not so soon. I want you to think about it before doing something you’ll regret.”

Jensen nods. He doesn’t know if he’ll follow his mother’s advice, but he doesn’t have the strength to explain himself anymore.

::: :::

It’s almost five when Jared enters the Cambio Café, shaking his head to get rid of the snowflakes stuck in his hair. He goes right for his table near the counter, relieved to see that Misha is still there. His friend joins him almost immediately with a large mug of coffee.

“I’m almost done. Let me get my stuff and I’ll join you.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“You look like hell, Jared.”

“Geez, thanks,” Jared mumbles into his coffee mug. 

He drinks it while waiting, adding some additional sugar to try and gather some energy. When Misha comes back to sit with him, he startles in surprise.

“How was your day?” Misha asks, cocking an eyebrow.

“Busy. Went to see Felicia Day this morning.”

“All the way down to…”

“Larson, yeah.”

“It’s two hours away from here.”

“One and a half.”

“Jared. You told me there was another agency close to her that would be able to offer her the same services. You can’t…-“

Jared shakes his head. He already knows all this. “Yeah but I feel responsible. The poor woman is having a tough time. I didn’t want to put her through meetings with new people where she’d have to tell her story all over again. And Jessie was so excited to see me.”

The more he works, the less he has to think, Jared doesn’t add but he can feel Misha’s knowing blue gaze, piercing right through him. Since Jensen’s seizure, Jared hasn’t been able sleep, and when he does, he has these horrible nightmares where everything is all mixed up. He finds Jensen convulsing on the floor over and over again, every time he closes his eyes. Sometimes his boyfriend dies in his arms, sometimes he shifts in front of his eyes, becoming a little boy with Sonic pajamas, body cold and lifeless. Jared wakes up screaming, drenched in sweat, sometimes outright crying. And when he’s awake, alone in his parent’s too-big, empty house, the dreams and the dark thoughts that come with them keep assaulting him, and he can’t do anything to ward them off. The TV and radio and sound system turned to the maximum aren’t enough to silence them. 

It’s going to get better, Jared tells himself stubbornly. It’s only normal to have some sort of reaction after what happened to Jensen. If he keeps up with his everyday life, keeps himself busy, it _will_ get better, right?

“What about you?” Misha asks without blinking. “You are having a tough time, Jare.”

“I’m good.”

“Ah, come on. Let’s be serious here. Not only did Jensen go through this horrible continuous seizure thing, but now he-“

Misha closes his mouth suddenly and shakes his head, which irritates Jared to the point where he feels the urge to scream. He shouldn’t have told his friend about their fight, but sometimes Misha has a way of dragging information from him, he doesn’t even know how.

“He called to invite me over for dinner tonight, at six,” he replies in a defensive voice. “We’re going to work things out.”

“Okay. Great. But Jared, have you thought about this thoroughly?”

“Jesus, Misha, thought about what?”

“About your relationship.”

Jared clenches his jaw and crosses his arms on his chest. “What do you mean?”

“Listen. I like the guy, I really like him. And I get that his illness is a fucking burden for him, that none of it is his fault. But you’ve been together for two months. And he has serious issues. Not even talking about his epilepsy here. He’s a freaking ocean of traumatisms.”

“Wouldn’t you be, given the circumstances?”

“He’s pushing you away, Jared! What I mean is - is it worth it? Have you considered a long term relationship in which you have to fight, again and again, just to keep your boyfriend from dumping you?”

“Mac told me he would do that. Try to push me away. She told me as soon as he regained consciousness. She told me not to let him do it.”

“I’m not talking about what Jensen’s sister wants. I’m talking about you. How invested you are in this. Jensen has to realise that he’s not the only one suffering from what happened. The toll it took on you-“

“He realises it!” Jared practically yells. “That why he’s so conflicted. He doesn’t want to be a burden on me. He’s scared shitless, he’s fighting this freaking disease and trying to keep it together but he can’t seem to catch a break! How would you react?”

“I don’t know! But if you’ve decided to be in this with him for the long haul, you have to tell him. What it does to you. How you feel about all this. You can’t-“

“I feel fine! I’m not the one who could’ve died five days ago! He needs me.”

“He didn’t want to see you for three days.”

“That’s not true. He would have, if I’d insisted, but I wanted to give him some space.”

“Jared, you need people to need you. That’s who you are,” Misha says in a soothing voice that’s worse than anything. “Just be careful not to confuse this with love.”

“Well, thanks for the advice,” Jared says coldly, standing up abruptly. “You’re a real friend, Mish.”

He grabs his coat and walks out of the café with quick, long footsteps. He doesn’t look back.

::: :::

Jensen opens the door on the first knock, and Jared feels a wave of nervousness wash over him. He takes in his boyfriend’s appearance. Despite Jensen’s apparent efforts to appear as well as he can, shaved and dressed, with his hair carefully combed, the stress his body has been exposed to is perfectly visible, from the almost waxen pallor of his skin to the creases around his mouth and eyes, underlined by blue shadows. His pupils are dilated, making them look darker, bigger, like he’s surprised by something –not necessarily something good.

He smiles, though, and a light blush creeps up his sunken cheeks. All Jared can think of is how he needs to take him in his arms and hold on tight. He doesn’t, though. Waits for a sign, whatever that may be.

“Hey,” Jensen says.

“I brought desert,” is all Jared can think to say, holding the square white box in front of him like a peace offering.

“Come in.”

As soon as the door closes behind them, Jensen takes the box and drops it on the bench near the entrance. “I missed you,” he murmurs, head lowered.

“Missed you too. How’re you doing?”

“I’m okay.”

Jared takes off his coat and takes a step forward. Jensen’s head rises then as he kisses him on the corner of his lips.

“I’m sorry, Jared.”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry too,” Jared rasps, ridiculously close to tears.

“I really, really missed you,” Jensen adds, wrapping his arms around Jared’s waist.

Jared is so relieved to see Jensen genuinely happy to see him he feels close to tears all over again. Damn, he needs to sleep and get over this nightmare thing.

“Hey, Jared, how’re you doing?” Donna peaks her head out of the kitchen, smiling, and the moment is gone.

“I brought desert,” Jared repeats, smiling stupidly.

“How nice of you. Dinner is ready whenever you guys are up to it.”

Diner goes fine, even if Donna does most of the talking, asking Jared about his parents and work and friends and interests as he tries to answer the best he can and not speak with his mouth full. Jensen doesn’t eat a lot and keeps quiet most of the time, occasionally rolling his eyes in exasperation. When it’s time for coffee and desert, Donna seems to have gone through every question she can think of and Jared starts to relax.

“Jay? Did you tell Jared about the nursing agency?”

“No, mom, I did not,” Jensen says in a neutral voice.

“What nursing agency?”

“I’ll have a nurse visiting me from time to time and calling everyday to see if m’alright,” Jensen explains, blushing, as if this is something to feel embarrassed about.

“Well, that’s great, isn’t it?” Jared asks because _it is_ great. He feels lighter, suddenly, like a weight he didn’t even know he was carrying had suddenly been lifted off his shoulders.

“Yes, that’s freaking great,” Jensen mumbles. “Needing a baby sitter at twenty-six years old is-“

“Come on, Jensen,” his mother cuts him off sternly. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s a service. You need it, they provide it.”

“Yeah,” Jensen murmurs. 

“I can’t believe you’re actually unhappy about this. After what happened to you-“

“I get it, mom,” Jensen snaps, giving his mother what looks like a silent warning. “I’ll do it. Isn’t that enough for you?”

Tension is building quickly in the air and Jared wants to find a way to lighten the atmosphere, but Donna is already talking again. "Besides, I’m flying back to Texas in a couple of days so you’ll need the additional help until you’ve fully recovered.”

“I’ll be here,” Jared finds it necessary to point out.

“I know you will.” Donna smiles sweetly at him, “but you’re his boyfriend, not his caretaker. This solution, it’s like a safety net, for the both of you.”

“Jesus,” Jensen sighs. “It’s like I’m five years old.”

“I’m your mother, what do you expect?” Donna winks at him and takes another bite of her strawberry shortcake.

After the dishes are done, they all move to the living room to watch some TV. Jared represses a smile when Jensen settles close to him on the couch and simply enjoys his closeness. There is a game show on –Jeopardy- and Donna answers enthusiastically, but she’s the only one. Soon, Jensen starts to drift off, his body becoming pliant and lax against Jared who can’t seem to stop yawning himself. When the show is over, Jensen is sound asleep, snoring softly against Jared’s neck, and Jared can barely keep his eyes open.

“Well, would you look at that,” Donna smiles, keeping her voice low. “You boys look like two seven year olds who are up way past their bedtime.”

“I should go before I fall asleep.”

“You could stay if you’d like.”

And yes, Jared would like that. A lot. But thinking about the previous nights, he decides against it. He can’t subject Jensen to the stress of his nightmares and risk waking him up screaming and kicking. His boyfriend is still recuperating from his seizure. He needs his rest. Needs calm and quiet.

Jared excuses himself and lets Donna walks him to the door. He feels better than he has in three days and he thinks that maybe, just maybe, the nightmares won’t be so terrifying tonight.

::: :::

The next morning, Jensen barely has time to get out of bed and run to the bathroom before he starts violently throwing up everything he had managed to eat the evening before. Damn new pill, looking so innocent and casual; a white round thing the size of a tic tac, managing to make him puke his guts out, giving him these vague headaches that makes him feel like his head’s too heavy and encouraging this whole –body-needs-to-rest stuff that’s already going on.

It doesn’t help to hear his mother enter the bathroom and wet a towel that she then presses on his neck. He can barely keep himself from snapping at her that he needs his freaking space.

“Are you okay?” She asks once he’s done dry heaving as he tries to get his breath back.

_I swear to god, if somebody asks me again if I’m okay I’m going to start throwing punches,_ he thinks, but only nods. He’s kind of proud of the control he has over himself, even when he feels this weak and sick.

Later that morning, as they’re eating breakfast, Donna has to go and test his limits all over again.

“I know this new pill sucks, but you haven’t had a single seizure or absence since you got out of the hospital.”

He hates when she does this, getting her hopes high just to be disappointed once again.

“They pumped me full of Valium and Epival. It going to take some time before it’s all out of my system, you know that.”

“Yeah, I know,” Donna murmurs into her tea mug. “Still,” she adds, but doesn’t go on when she sees the exasperated look Jensen is giving her.

“The nurse from the agency is going to be here at two this afternoon to see what kind of service I need,” Jensen says because five minutes of silence when facing your mother is barely tolerable.

“I’m glad you did it, Jensen. I’m also glad you’ve decided to think things through before making any decision about-“

“Mom, I won’t have this conversation with you again. Especially not at seven in the morning.”

Donna nods and stands up, taking her tea with her to the living room. As soon as she’s gone, Jensen drops the piece of toast he’d been munching on, just the idea of trying to swallow it making him nauseous. He rests his head on his hands crossed on the counter, sighing deeply and remembering the discussion of yesterday.

Thinking about this, he suddenly remembers something his mother said last night. Groaning, he stands up slowly and joins her in the living room. Donna is sitting near the bay window, looking at the snow-covered landscape with a thoughtful expression on her face.

“It’s really beautiful,” she says. “Look at the way the sun glistens on the snow.”

“It’s cold, that’s what it is,” Jensen mumbles, sitting on the couch with his legs pulled up against his chest to try and warm himself up.

“You always did hate the cold. I remember once when you were-“

“Mom?”

“What?”

“Were you serious yesterday? When you said you were flying back to Richardson at the end of the week?”

“Yes. Called the airport. I’ll take the noon flight on Saturday.”

This is as unexpected as it is un-Donna like. When Jensen had gone into status epilepticus two years ago, months had passed before she left him alone in the house, even if it was only to go grocery shopping. Of course, there had been the matter of Jensen’s left side weakness. Just thinking about it makes him shiver.

His surprise must be written all over his face because his mom raises an eyebrow at him.

“Didn’t expect me to go so soon, did you?”

“Frankly, no.”

“I can stay longer if you want.”

“No, it’s not…” Jensen waves a dismissive hand, unsure of where this conversation is going.

“I think it’s better for the both of us,” Donna states.

“Mom, I know I haven’t exactly been cheerful but I… Well, if I’ve been a jerk to you, I didn’t mean to.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Jensen. To tell you the truth, I don’t want us to fall into a pattern here. It took me a long time to accept your decision to move here, but what’s done is done. I need to get it into my head that it’s your life and that I don’t have a say in it. It’s… It’s unfair for you. And selfish on my part. Why was I upset in the first place? Because I was worried out of my mind. I can’t force you to live your life the way I want you to just so I won’t have to worry.”

“I get it, you know. I get that I didn’t leave under the best circumstances. And for that, I’m sorry, ma.”

“Don’t be. The point is, all of my instincts as a mother tell me to stay, and that’s exactly why I have to leave. You have Jared, and the nursing agency, and you’re an adult. I have to trust you to take care of yourself.”

Jensen nods, wondering why he feels so uneasy about his mother’s leaving so soon. He has spent years trying to keep his independence and make the people around him understand that he couldn’t deal with their constant displays of worry and concern. But now, now that he’s not sure where his life is going, whether his future is here in York or back in Texas, whether he can accept himself as he is in his relationship with Jared or not. Now, he fears his mother’s departure.

Maybe she’s right, then. 

“I understand,” he says. 

And he wants to add something, tell Donna that he loves her so much, that he’s aware of all the sacrifices she has made for him, of everything she has given up, of all the nights she has stayed up with him when he was sick or so depressed he couldn’t get out of bed.

He can’t. So he settles on giving her a quick hug and a kiss on her cheek. She smiles, even though she still looks lost in her thoughts.

::: :::

Jared’s supervisor, Mark Pellegrino, is head of the town’s community services. He’s a tall guy with broad shoulders and a cold, composed attitude that is actually just a way for him to keep control over his acute sense of justice and passion for his work. Word has it that he’d lived on the streets for most of his teenage years, but he never speaks about it. Since he’d grown up in Manhattan, it’s almost impossible to verify and the rumor spreads like some kind of urban legend amongst Jared’s co-workers.

Jared likes Mark. Likes him a lot. He’s a fair boss who really cares about people in need.

It’s Friday afternoon and Jared’s contact at the police station calls him to announce that Stewart has disappeared. No one has seen him or spoken with him in the past twenty-four hours. Jared’s first instinct is to call Felicia, but his cop friend tells him she already knows. They’re in communication with the Larson police department. A patrol car has been assigned to the neighborhood where she lives with her sister.

It’s not enough, Jared thinks, remembering Stewart’s freakishly wide smile the day his release on bail had been accepted.

That’s how he finds himself bursting into Pellegrino’s office, asking for help.

Jared is so worked up that Mark’s low and polite voice stops him dead in his tracks, mouth half open, unsure of what to do next.

“Sit down, Jared.” Mark says.

“He should never have been freed on bail,” Jared says slowly, taking a seat in front of Mark.

“Well, he was.”

“Damn it, Mark! The guy broke his two year old daughter’s arm! He threw her against a wall hard enough to give her a concussion.”

“Innocent until proven guilty.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“I know, Jared, but listen to me, the guy intends to plead not guilty. He doesn’t have any prior arrests to prove that he’s a violent individual. He has disappeared from the radar but that doesn’t automatically mean he’s a threat to his wife and daughter-“

“What!?”

“I’m speaking of the law, not my personal opinion. The Larson police have decided, given all the information provided, that the threat to Felicia Day and her daughter isn’t sufficient to assign them twenty-four seven protection. Hell, you know how this works. Stewart isn’t a serial killer on the loose. Do you really think that the victims of every husband or boyfriend waiting to be judged for domestic violence are under police protection? No. And do you know why? There wouldn’t be enough police officers in the world to cover them all.”

“He’s disappeared,” Jared states sternly.

“That’s why the police will be doing rounds from time to time.”

“It’s… It’s like nobody cares…”

Mark Pellegrino leans over his desk, managing to look imposing even while sitting down. “That’s not true and you know it. Anyway, Felicia’s case has been taken over by Larson’s social services. I called them.”

“But I… I can still-“

“She lives two hours away from here! Jared, I know you’re going through a hard time right now, with what happened to your boyfriend. And the shelter is full. Let’s face it, if the budget would allow it, I’d have hired another social worker to work full time with you and Genevieve. You’re overworked and tired and emotional. I don’t think you see Felicia Day’s case with enough objectivity and distance.”

Jared shakes his head slowly. “I’m fine. Whatever happened with Jensen doesn’t mean I can’t do my job properly.”

He feels a wave of anxiety wash over him, thinking maybe he hasn’t worked hard enough, hasn’t proved to his supervisor how invested he is in his work, how useful he can be. It’s not rational, that much he knows. It doesn’t do him any good knowing it though.

“This isn’t a punishment, Jared,” Mark looks at him with something like tenderness in his blue eyes. “If you still want to be involved in the case, I’ll give you the contact information for Felicia Day’s new social worker. But I want you to realise you can’t split yourself in two. Your plate is more than full. I don’t want you to burn yourself out.”

The conversation is over, Jared can hear it in Mark’s tone. He takes in everything the man has said to him, trying to convince himself that his supervisor is right and doing what’s in his best interest.

Still, he can’t help but think of Felicia’s case as a personal failure, like he’s abandoned her somehow and could have done more to prevent the chain of events that has led to this point. He’s afraid the young woman and her daughter will now be part of the nightmares that are still plaguing him. Just thinking about going to sleep makes him nervous now.

On his way back to the shelter, he calls Jensen, suddenly eager to hear his voice, to feel him close even if only for a few minutes. It’s his mother who answers. Jensen’s asleep. She’ll tell him to call back when he wakes up. “Is everything alright, Jared?” Donna asks with that tone only mothers seem to manage: a mix of worry and authority. 

“Yes, everything is fine,” Jared answers, because it is.

Everything is fine.

::: :::

_After Jeff’s death, Jared began to feel sick. He didn’t know why and wouldn’t speak about it, not when mom and dad kept crying and everyone who came to visit seemed so sad._

_He didn’t really understand what death was, that his brother was gone and would never, ever come back. Mom had sat with him, explaining to him that Jeff’s illness had been very serious from the beginning and that even the best doctors couldn’t cure him. She had told him that he was in Heaven now, watching over them, like an angel. He wasn’t sure how that was possible, and it didn’t make him feel any better. He couldn’t even tell why he felt sick, where it hurt exactly. There was just this diffused sensation of not feeling good that wouldn’t go away, even when he was sleeping._

_As the weeks went by, life seemed to go back to normal. Dad went to work and mom followed soon after. Jared went back to school and played with his friends and began to ask dad for a puppy come October. He dressed as a pirate for Halloween._

_Still, nothing was normal, not really, not like Jared remembered it used to be. It was like a make-believe normal, because Jared was waiting alone for the school bus to come and pick him up, and mom and dad were fighting and sometimes crying when they thought he was asleep. And Jared didn’t really want a puppy, not like he used to._

_It was easy, figuring what was wrong, what –who- was missing, and maybe, maybe Jeff had been the reason for normal all along and nobody realised it until he was gone. Jeff had been loud and funny and sometimes a jerk to Jared, but it was okay, because that’s what big brothers were supposed to do. Jeff’s absence maybe was so hard because Jared wasn’t enough, wasn’t enough to hold his family together._

_Once he figured it out, Jared tried to fix whatever was broken. If he tried hard enough, maybe he could become as important as Jeff had been. Maybe he would be enough, eventually._

_He was six, and all of that made perfect sense in his head._


	12. As the World Falls Down

Jensen is lying on his back on top of the covers, shivering, even though his pale skin is covered with sweat. He’s naked, griping the sheets, legs parted to accommodate Jared who’s kneeling between them, one hand holding himself up while the other gently fondles Jensen’s balls, already drawn up, skin tight and puckered.

Jared swallows around Jensen’s burning shaft and another drop of precome bursts from the tip, to slide down Jared’s throat. His boyfriend is close; his breathing has shifted into harsh, loud pants and his hips have started to jerk slightly. He’s not speaking, though - not a word. He’s also strangely passive. Maybe it’s because it’s the first time Jared has given him a blow job.

 _Yeah, buddy, keep telling yourself that_. Jared concentrates on the more than pleasant task at hand and stops thinking. He never likes where his thoughts wander these days.

“Jared, close-“ Jensen hisses between his teeth a second before he lets out a little moan and comes down Jared’s throat, his hips giving a couple of stronger jerks.

Jared swallows without hesitating and wraps a hand around himself, giving his dick a couple of quick, hard strokes before he comes over Jensen’s quivering belly. His orgasm is short and weak, so unsatisfying he almost wants to cry.

“Should’ve let me take care of it,” Jensen says, rising on one elbow to run his fingers through Jared’s hair.

“Told you: relax and enjoy.” Jared says, getting off the bed. “’Gonna grab a washcloth.”

Everything feels wrong and fake. Jared knows it. Jensen knows it. They just go on ignoring it, like somehow it’s going to get better if they give it enough time.

At least, that’s what Jared thinks. When he’s alone and not sleeping and he remembers the events of the passing days - Jensen’s tone on the phone, Jensen’s way of turning his eyes away whenever they happen to look at each other. Jensen pushing him away without pushing him away. And Jared can’t fight it. He doesn’t know how. Doesn’t know if he’s doing something wrong, if he’s not reacting the way Jensen would like. He’s trying so hard not to put pressure on his boyfriend it sometimes feels like he’s the one running away.

It’s a Wednesday night, December seventh, and Jensen is slowly regaining his former strength. At least, that’s what he tells Jared, even though he still looks frail and breakable, always on the verge of falling asleep. He doesn’t eat much, pops Tylenol like it’s candy and Jared thinks he’s gone back to smoking, even if he never does it when Jared’s there. 

It’s the new pill, Jensen insists, and it’s going to get better. His system has to get used to it. Since getting out of the hospital, he’s only had a couple of absence seizures. Jared had wanted to cheer, but Jensen had stopped him dead in his tracks. It always looks like it’s working in the beginning. Then, it usually blows up in his face.

At least there’s the nursing agency. Jensen doesn’t want to talk about it. Boring stuff, he says, exasperated. The important thing is that he uses the service, right? 

Coming back to the room, Jared cleans Jensen’s belly and lies back down next to him. Jensen has one arm over his face. He doesn’t move as Jared drags the comforter over the both of them.

“Do you want me to stay?” He asks, hoping Jensen will refuse. They haven’t spent a night together since the hospital, since Jared’s nights are reduced to fierce mental fights with his crimson dreams. It’s not just the fear of having Jensen realise that something is wrong with him, it’s the fear of having the nightmares even with his boyfriend well and alive, lying next to him. And then? What will happen to him if he has confirmation that sleep still isn’t safe? It’s too frightening to even think about.

Since Stewart’s disappearance, it’s not just Jensen and Jeff anymore who are dying over and over again in Jared’s fucked up dreams. Sometimes it’s Jessie, or Felicia, or all of them at the same time. And Jared can’t do anything to help them. He’s even dreamed of Victoria losing the baby, blood flowing between her legs, while all he could do was watch.

Jensen doesn’t know any of this. He doesn’t even know how Felicia’s case has turned out. He has asked a couple of times if Jared is okay, and all Jared can say is “fine.” It’s easier for him to think of it as a way of sparing his boyfriend any additional source of concern or stress than to face the true reasons behind his silence. Speaking about it would make everything more real, would expose him as someone who just can’t deal with his difficulties. He doesn’t want anybody to worry about him. It’s not the way things are supposed to work.

He hasn’t spoken to Misha since their fight almost a week ago, and maybe Jared is okay with that. Better to keep his crap to himself.

Jared’s so lost in his thoughts he doesn’t realize that Jensen hasn’t answered him. What he feels is a soft vibration of the mattress and, when he turns his head, he sees Jensen’s chest heaving rapidly, his mouth curved in a grimace, and his first thought is: _No, not again._ Why can’t Jensen catch a freaking break?

Jensen’s arm is still covering his eyes. Jared gently moves it to let it rest on Jensen’s stomach, surprised to find no tension or stiffness in the muscle. Jensen is crying as silently as he can. 

“You’re… It’s not a seizure.”

Jensen sobs as new tears slide down his cheeks and he slowly shakes his head. “M’sorry, Jared. I thought I could do this, but I can’t. I’m so sorry.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t fucking know. I… I don’t wanna do this when where both freaking naked lying in my bed.”

“Do what?”

But Jared knows. He’s just not ready to hear it.

::: :::

They’re sitting in the living room. Jared is tense and fidgety, hands lying flat on his thighs, looking at the turned off TV screen right in front of him. Jensen sits at the other end of the couch, smoking a cigarette. His fingers shake as he brings the filter to his mouth. He’s not crying anymore, but his eyes are red and swollen, his cheeks blotchy. The silence stretches out just like the bluish smoke that Jensen exhales shakily.  
.

“So?” Jared asks when he just can’t take it anymore.

“I don’t think things are going to work out between us,” Jensen rasps suddenly, like all he’s been doing is waiting for Jared to start the conversation.

“Why?”

“It’s me, Jared. You gotta realize that. I can’t be in a relationship.”

“That’s stupid,” Jared mumbles, still careful not to look at Jensen.

“Jared, please. Just… look at us. I’m a mess. All you do is take care of me. Damn it, we just had sex and you wouldn’t fuck me because you were afraid it would be too hard on me. And when you look at me, all I can see in your eyes is pity and compassion, and I can’t stand it. I know I’m fucked up and I’ve tried to get over this. Hell, even promised my mom I wouldn’t do anything until after Christmas.”

“Wow. You talked with your mom about dumping me?” Jared feels the first pinch of hurt deep in his guts.

“No it… it wasn’t like that. But I… It’s not fair, for you, to have to put up with all this. You’re supposed to be my boyfriend and you always end up being my nurse. And I hate myself for it.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know that!” Jensen snaps, close to tears all over again. “But in the end, what does it change? Everything you’ve done for me, everything I put you through, it makes me sick just to think about it. I can’t fucking stand to look at myself in a mirror. How can I look at you when all I see is the way I am in your eyes, and I hate what you must see. I hate it.”

“I love you Jensen.”

It’s Jared’s last attempt to salvage the conversation, a weak one at that. Jensen keeps talking about illness and life and the mistakes he’s made. He talks about what a great guy Jared is, how he deserves someone better than him. He ends up crying all over again, wiping at his eyes furiously as if it could stop the flow of tears. There are so many things Jared wants to say, needs to say, but the words stay stuck in his throat and all he can’t think about is _please don’t do this to me now. Need you. So much._

He feels cold and empty. When Jensen is done, Jared stands up. He’s shaking all over.

“I think I’m gonna leave now,” he says, and his own voice sounds like a distant, distorted echo.

“Yeah. Okay.” Jensen sniffs and lights up another cigarette.

“Please take care of yourself,” Jared adds. “I’m sorry.”

_…I wasn’t enough. Or too much. I don’t know anymore._

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” are Jensen’s last words before Jared leaves his apartment.

He doesn’t really remember driving to Misha’s house, doesn’t even realize that’s where he is heading. It’s almost eleven o’clock when he finds himself knocking at his friend’s door, teeth chattering against the cold wind.

Victoria is the one who answers.

“Jare? What’s going on?”

“Jensen left me,” Jared stutters before launching himself into Victoria’s open arms. 

::: :::

The first week passes by slowly, like time has decided to torture him and keep him in his misery. He’s so tangled in the pain of missing Jared with every part of his body, of his mind, that he doesn’t really realize that over the seven days following their break up, all he’s had were some absences, maybe five or six, no partial seizures, no general ones, not even the feeling that he’s about to have one.

And when he does fully realize it, all Jensen feels is frustration. Like his body has suddenly decided to make it easier for him now that Jared isn’t there anymore. The beast has decided to behave when he’s alone and miserable.

…And an idiot.

Jensen can’t do much but rest. He knows he needs it. He makes himself behave like a grown up when he meets the nurse from the nursing agency for the first time, even if all he wants to do is tell her to leave him alone, that he doesn’t need a baby-sitter.

…Except he does. As hard as it is to admit it to himself, he does. Always will.

At night he has trouble falling asleep. When the sun comes up he finds himself lying in his bed completely awake, trying to convince himself that he did the right thing. As much as it hurts, he did the right thing. He’d tried to keep his promise, to give it time before making any kind of decision, but things had been so bad between Jared and him he just couldn’t keep on. He would have been a hypocrite to do so.

Because now he sees it perfectly, what he’s done to Jared. When they’d first met, Jared had been enthusiastic and happy, easy going, like a ray of sunlight that insists on shining even through the clouds. That’s one of the reasons Jensen had been attracted to him, couldn’t resist the idea of getting close to him. Three months later and Jared is like a shadow of his old self - nervous and stressed, features tensed with worry, way too quiet to be natural. It’s like he has aged several years since he met Jensen. And Jensen did that to him. Not that he holds himself responsible for his epilepsy acting up, but what does it change in the end?

That’s what his illness is, that’s what it does to people who get close to him. 

Jared is going to be alright, Jensen keeps telling himself. Jared deserves to have a normal, happy relationship, and Jensen can’t give that to him. He’s doing this for the good reasons. He is.

 _What about your own selfish self?_ He sometimes can’t help but think, especially when sleep is finally about to take over him. _Isn’t it easier for you this way? No need to worry about anyone but yourself. No need to face yourself every day and see who you really are through Jared’s eyes. Aren’t you doing this to make things easier on yourself, because then you can keep running and hiding and cultivating the self-loathing you’ve become an expert in._

But no. He’s done it for Jared.

He doesn’t tell his mother when she calls –every day - doesn’t even dare to speak about it with Mac. He doesn’t want to face his family’s disapproval, doesn’t want to hear that this is Matt all over again, maybe because he knows it is, even though he keeps telling himself that he’s in a different state of mind than he was two years ago. He can’t bear the thought of being judged. 

His mother would tell him that he needs to let people love him.

And he can’t hear that kind of crap right now.

He’s going to find a sub-renter for his apartment. After he’s done with the exam corrections, he’s going to resign from his job. If he’s lucky, he thinks he could be back in Texas just in time for Christmas. He’s not going to be coming back here. Only once he’s home will he tell his mother that he’d tried and it didn’t work out. He’s a coward. No surprise there.

It had been stupid to think it would be different, moving here. All he’s done is worry his family and mess up a guy who didn’t deserve any of this. What had he been thinking? 

He’s been acting like a child throwing a temper tantrum. His mother had been right from the start. 

And fuck, he has managed to fall in love while doing it, and it hurts so damn much he sometimes can’t even think straight. But he’s brought it on himself. What’s left to do but to face the truth and deal with it? That’s what he tries to do during the week, and if sometimes he feels this panicky sensation washing over him, like he’s made a horrible mistake, well, it always passes in the end.

::: :::

Jerry and Sherry Padalecki are supposed to spend a few days in Florida visiting Sherry’s younger sister before flying back to York on December the 20th. When his mother calls on December 15th to say they’ve just arrived in Miami, it’s the first time Jared has heard her voice in a month –email has been their principal source of communication from the beginning.

He almost breaks into tears right on the spot, his phone in his hand, standing in the empty kitchen wearing only his boxers. _Come on_ , he thinks, swallowing back the lump in his throat. _You’re getting better._

The lie is so weak he can’t figure out how to believe it. Still, he gathers himself together and speaks to his mom with the most enthusiastic voice he can manage. She babbles about everything, from their flight to the changes her sister has made in her house since their last visit, and all Jared has to do is fill in a word here and there. Then, suddenly, Sherry’s voice slows down and she clears her throat.

“What would you say about flying over here so that we can all spend Christmas together? Gwen’s whole family is going to be here. It would be fun, right?”

Just thinking about it makes Jared nauseous. His short silence immediately alerts his mom. 

“You could bring Jensen if you’d like. He’s more than welcome.”

“Mom I can’t. There’s too much work to do at the shelter and all I have is two days off for Christmas.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, it was just an idea Gwen and I had and I thought…”

Jared knows what’s coming. His mother is already thinking about coming back home to spend the holidays with him but he can tell how enthusiastic she is about her idea to stay with her sister and he can’t bring himself to let her down, even though he misses his parents so much. “Come on, mom. You and dad stay there and have Christmas with your family. I’ll be alright. Jensen’s here,” he adds, ignoring the sharp pain in the depth of his stomach. “I won’t be alone. We’ll celebrate with Mish and Victoria.”

Sherry hesitates. He can picture her playing with the collar of whatever she’s wearing like she always does when she’s nervous. “We both miss you, Jared. Very much.”

“I know, mom. Miss you too. But it’s only for a few more days. I think I can manage.”

It takes some more convincing, but eventually Sherry gives in to Jared’s insistence. Jerry Padalecki then takes his turn on the phone and they speak for a few minutes. Then, way too early for Jared’s liking, his father hangs up and he finds himself alone once again.

It’s eight in the evening and he’d been getting ready to go to bed before the phone call. He should take a shower; it’s been two days, but the mere thought of doing so seems like an impossible task and he gives up, going straight for the bottle of sleeping pills he keeps in the kitchen.

They had been Victoria’s. Misha had given them to him after three days of insomnia that had left him completely exhausted. The pills aren’t strong, but are enough to put him to sleep. He still has nightmares and he wakes up several times during the night, but he’s able to go back to sleep right after, so he supposes it’s an improvement. He doesn’t feel rested in the morning though. He’s so tired it’s like he’s walking in a perpetual dream. Colors are too bright. Noises are too loud. Nothing tastes good.

Misha tells him he should take a break from work to get himself together but Jared can’t bring himself to do it. It would just be him alone with his thoughts in the empty house. He needs to keep going, needs to feel that he’s useful, at least at work.

Anything to take his mind off Jensen. 

Like that’s even possible anyway.

Jared swallows the pill and walks slowly back to his room. The house is a mess. He doesn’t even remember the last time he vacuumed or dusted. What the hell. His parents won’t be back until December 27th now. 

He lies down on his crumpled sheets and curls into a ball –well, a giant ball- under the comforter. His room smells like sweat and humidity. He doesn’t care. He closes his eyes and waits for the pill to work.

Sometimes if he recites something in his head, it helps. Sometimes he’s careful enough not to let any thought of his boyfriend invade his mind. Tonight, though, he’s failing. Not only does it hurt like Hell not having him in his life anymore, but there’s also the thought of what could happen to Jensen. What if another grand mal seizure is triggered and he’s alone, what if he’d lied and there is no nurse watching over him, calling twice a day and carefully monitoring his health. Misha tells him not to do this to himself, not to think about things he doesn’t have any control over. He had gotten mad the morning after Jared had appeared on his doorstep in a mess of tears, begging him to go to Jensen’s place just to see if he was alright.

Misha had said no. Jared had insisted. Misha’s voice had risen –something that Jared can’t ever remember happening before. “Jensen’s health is not your responsibility. It never was. You gotta stop this, man, because there is nothing you can do. He made the decision to break up with you. He can deal with it. I’m not being cruel. I know he’s not a bad guy and I know how much you love him. Still, it’s over. And it’s a damn shame, but you need to stop worrying about him.”

Jared had almost called that morning. Just to be sure, because despite knowing Misha was right, he was so scared and worried he felt like he was losing his mind.

He’d had his thumb on the “send” button when he’d stopped, the thought of David flashing through his mind suddenly like a jack-in-the-box popping up. _You’re… You’re choking me, Jared. You’re too much. And I need my space. I’m sorry._

Yeah. Despite how difficult it had been, Jared hadn’t called, not that day, nor the days that followed. 

Jared can’t be mad at Jensen. He’s tried. He’s tried so damn hard, but the only person he can get mad at is himself. Because somewhere along the way, he must’ve fucked up. He must’ve…

“Stop it,” Jared rasps at the empty room and he realises he’s crying again. The tears burn his cheeks and he’s panting, close to hyperventilating. He wipes at his eyes with exasperation and buries his head under his pillow, trying to calm himself. 

He’s slowly succumbing to the effect of the sleeping pill when his cell rings and somehow he knows it’s going to be bad even before he answers. It’s Genevieve. Her soft voice is shaking.

“I’m so sorry, Jared,” is the first thing she says.

“What? What are you sorry for?”

“Shit. I was certain the guy from Larson had already called you.”

Jared sits abruptly up in bed, submerged by a wave of panic. “Is it Felicia?”

“Stewart beat her up real bad. He took off with the kid.”

::: :::

Jensen blinks and tries to move. _Okay_ , he thinks. _Okay, you’re okay._

He turns his head slowly, swallowing back the urge to throw up. He’s lying on the kitchen floor. He bends his fingers and arms, then his legs, careful not to go too fast. He doesn’t feel any kind of bad pain anywhere except on his face. He licks his lips and grimaces, feeling the torn skin and the blood drying on his upper lip. 

“Fuck,” he murmurs to the empty room.

He tries to sit and succeeds. The room tilts on its axis for a minute, then it stops. Jensen drags a hand over his face and sighs with a shaky breath.

“You’re okay,” he repeats, then clears his throat to chase the taste of blood. He tries to remember and it comes back to him easily enough. He always does it the same way. First the date. Right. Friday December 16th. He’s in his apartment, in York. He’d been getting himself ready to go to bed when he’d felt it coming. He’d gone into the kitchen to take an Ativan, but it had already been too late. He thinks he’d had time to sit on the floor.

It’s first seizure he’s had since his status epilepticus, and it doesn’t seem to have been too bad. 

Still dazed and fighting sleep, Jensen drags himself up, using the counter to hold onto while he tries to decide if standing is a good idea after all. It seems okay. He hasn’t pissed himself. The microwave clock tells him it can’t have been a long seizure since barely fifteen minutes have passed. It always takes some time for him to wake up completely when he’s alone after an episode like this one.

He’d done well.

An uneasy laugh escapes his throat. Like he has anything to do with it.

He makes his way to the bathroom and looks at his cut lip in the mirror. It’s not too bad. At least the shape is still recognisable. He sticks out his tongue and sees the two purple marks his teeth had left in the middle. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Jensen undresses and steps into the shower, setting the water temperature hot enough to burn the first few seconds, but he needs it. He feels frozen to the bone.

He loses any sense of time as he lets the water envelop him in its warmth. His mind wanders back to Jared, as it always does these days. He thinks about that morning after their kind-of first meeting. Can see how bright and wide Jared’s smile had been, how his cheeks had gotten all pink when he had gathered the courage to ask him out.

And then he can’t stop the flow of memories, of very single freaking moment they had spent together, of the way Jared made him feel safe whenever he took him in his arms, of the almost childish pleasure he would find in the simplest things. He thinks about the stupid dance they’d had while listening to Sound and Vision. 

Then it hits him, just like that, like a seizure taking him off guard. 

How could he think his life would be better without him? Right now, Jared would probably be filling a bath for him, coaxing him through the after effects of the seizure while making stupid jokes to try and make him smile. And he would probably mostly succeed.

Right now, Jensen wouldn’t be alone in a too hot shower feeling miserable and useless.

The panic he feels is brutal enough for him to step out of the shower in a hurry, barely taking the time to wrap a towel around his hips. He needs his Ativan and he needs it now. If he’s about to have another serious episode, there’s no way he’s going to get out of it as easily as last time. And he had already received his second daily phone call from the nursing agency at eight o’clock that night. Which means that if it happens to him …

Just like that, Jensen Ackles, 26 year old, becomes brutally aware of his own mortality. Not only that, but of the tortuous ways in which he used to run from it, always running, hiding from the awareness, from this particular moment when it would grab him and bite him in the ass. 

Facing death, facing what his life is worth and what he wants to do with it.

He swallows the Ativan and goes to lie down on his bed, naked in a damp towel, trying desperately to slow down his breathing. God he needs someone right now, not his mother, or Mackenzie, or even his so reasonable father. He can’t bring himself to ask for help after having lied to them for more than a week.

It’s the first time he really misses Christian since the big fight they’d had before Jensen left Richardson. 

He suddenly remembers that time, way back, when he had been hospitalised for the second time a couple of weeks after his first seizure. Chris had come to see him and had managed to help him sneak out of the hospital, pushing Jensen’s wheelchair like it was a racing cart, to get outside and let him have a cigarette. They had talked for a long time as Jensen had let the warm spring sun heat his skin and Chris had made dirty comments about a group of nurses who were on a break just to make him smile. Then, the conversation had suddenly become serious. Jensen had felt anxiety creeping under his skin and had asked Chris what he was supposed to do. Where he was supposed to go from there? He had been close to tears.

Chris had crouched in front of him, all intense and shit.

“Think you have to ask yourself the right question if you want an answer.”

“What the fuck is the right question?”

“Well, obviously: What would David Bowie do?” Chris had said, winking at him, all seriousness suddenly gone from his face.

“Sniff a line of coke, dress in drag and tell the world to go fuck itself,” Jensen had deadpanned.

A second later, they had both burst out laughing.

Jensen smiles just thinking about it. Still shaking, he takes his cell phone from the nightstand and hits Chris’s number quickly, before he changes his mind. 

Of course, Christian answers and it’s too late to think this through more thoroughly.

“Jensen?” His voice is rough and suspicious.

Jensen wants to say something, really, he does, but his throat is closed and his heart is beating so hard he can barely hear his name repeated another time.

“Jen, fuck, are you alright, man? Want me to call someone for you?”

“I fucked up, Chris,” is what Jensen finally gets out. “I fucked up real bad.”

“Why do you say that? Come on, talk to me!”

“I don’t wanna die alone.” Jensen blurts out and it hurts just saying the words because it’s true. It’s so true.

“Hey, alright. Okay. M’here. M’listening. Just tell me you’re not hurt or-“

“M’not hurt. Fuck, don’t hang up on me, okay? It’s like… it feels like I’m losing my mind.”

“Are you alone right now? This Jared guy… your boyfriend… where is he?”

“I’m a heartless jerk.”

“Yeah and I’m the damn king of the world.”

There is concern and worry and affection in Chris’s voice, but this time, instead of feeling disgusted at himself and angry at the whole freaking world, Jensen takes it for what it is.

Then he starts talking.


	13. Within You

Steve’s face is the first one to appear on the computer screen. He smiles and nods. “Hey, Jay.”

“Can you see me?”

“Gotta say, you look like shit.”

“Geez, thanks.”

Jensen drags another puff from his cigarette and can’t help but smile when he sees the way Steve’s eyes get all dreamy. He used to be a smoker too.

“Okay, that looks like the best freaking cigarette in the whole world,” he sighs.

Suddenly, there’s a blur on the screen as Steve is pushed out of the way. “Told you to get it settled. Now, it’s settled,” Chris grunts as he sits in what used to be Steve’s chair.

“You’re a freaking jerk,” Steve says from the background.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Bye, Jensen! Hang in there, man.”

“Yeah, bye Steve.”

Jensen clears his throat and sits back on the couch. It’s still early in the morning and he had barely slept four hours last night. The most irritating thing is, on top the acrid taste in his mouth and the itching sensation in his eyes, he’s going to need a freaking nap later if he wants to keep his epilepsy under control. He and Christian had talked on the phone until late in the night, but his friend had insisted on seeing him on Skype before he would continue with the conversation. Jensen knows it’s because Chris has been worried about him and wanted to see that he was okay with his own eyes.

“You do look like shit,” Christian states. “And what’s with the smoking?”

“Who are you? My mom?” Jensen snaps, but he does put the cigarette in the empty glass he uses as an ashtray.

“Seriously, Jay.”

Chris himself doesn’t look that well. He has a beard that must be at least two weeks old, his hair is tied roughly in one of those strange fuzzy buns he likes so much and there are purple shadows under his eyes. Jensen guesses he mustn’t have slept that much himself over the night.

“M’okay.”

“Yeah well, if you were really okay, I guess we wouldn’t be talking right now.”

Jensen shrugs. 

“Have you decided what you’re gonna do?”

“I don’t know where to start. Hell, I don’t even know if I should do anything at all.”

“About Jared.”

“No, about the Queen of England.”

“Jensen, man, you gotta give me something to work with here.”

“I know,” Jensen rasps. “I… if I go back to him, tell him I made a mistake and that I want back together with him… What if he realised I was right about calling it off, that I’m a freaking pain in the ass to live with.”

“Yeah, I can’t guarantee that won’t happen,” Christian says, because he’s never been known for sugar coating anything.

Jensen had been expecting it. It doesn’t make it any less scary, thinking he could be rejected. 

“It’s not just that, man. I don’t… The shit I put him through. I mean, he’s the nicest guy. Never got mad at me, not once, but it’s been hard for him, what happened to me and… that’s not going to change. The freaking epilepsy won’t go away just because I decide I want Jared back.”

“Well, he knows that. I mean, he went into this with his eyes open. And he didn’t run.”

“Yeah…”

“So?”

“So, what if it works? What if I get my shit together and we go on and… We’re still at the very beginning, with hearts and puppies all around.”

“Hey, it’s seven in the morning. Don’t make me puke.”

“You know what I mean. What about six months from now… Or even a year? When the novelty and excitement and passion of the first months is gone and… Jared wakes up one day realising he’s living with a disabled man and… And the seizures and the absences and the meds and all the watching over me - it becomes a routine for him, a boring, intrusive one and…“

“Stop it. Right now.”

“What if he stays with me out of pity?”

“Jay,” Christian cuts him off, looking irritated. “This is bullshit. You know, I used to know this guy… He was a stubborn bastard. Decided that he would never be ashamed of his sexual orientation. And he had this attitude like… the worse things got, the more unashamed he was. Never ran. Never tried to be someone he wasn’t, never lowered his eyes. The little shit weighed maybe 120 pounds wet and he didn’t know how to fight, so he looked like easy prey. And I used to be pissed at him because I was scared something bad would happen and that I wouldn’t be there to save his ass. But that guy, I think he was right.”

“Oh god, don’t go all allegory on me.”

“Hey. I’m a deep man.”

There is a laugh in the background. Chris turns his head, shouting. “Shut up, Steve!” Then he turns back to Jensen and rolls his eyes like he’s surrounded by morons.

“Okay, fuck the allegory. That’s who you were. And it did piss me off. But I respected that. Remember what you used to tell me? That you had no reason to be ashamed of something that you couldn’t control.”

“And it’s the same thing with my epilepsy, right?” Jensen asks defensively, crossing his arms over his chest. Then he thinks he must look like a brooding five year old and uncrosses them.

“Obviously. Not only that, but you’re an adult now, not a fifteen year-old. You know you don’t have any control over it. Jared knows. Every-fucking-body knows.”

“Cohen song, right?” 

“Without the swearing, yeah. You used to like that Cohen guy.”

“Still do.”

“And you’re changing the subject, Ackles. Let’s face it, sometimes you just go full-on epilepsy and there is nothing you can do about it, but you take it all on yourself like it’s your fault or something. Yes, it sucks and it scares people and it’s hard for us to see you like that. And yeah, sometimes we have to take care of you and you hate it and I get that. But I’m not friends with your epilepsy, I’m friends with you.”

“Sounds like a song in a kid TV show”, Jensen sighs because it’s easier to mock than to really get what Christian is saying to him.

“Damn it,” Chris snaps, shaking his head slowly from left to the right. “Don’t be a moron. You know what I’m getting at. In six months or a year, if you’re still with this Jared guy and he’s still in love with you, maybe the seizures and stuff will become something like a routine, maybe sometimes he’ll feel tired of all of it. But that doesn’t change who you are and who he fell for in the first place. Maybe sometimes he’ll hate your fucking disease, but it doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

“Yeah,” Jensen mumbles. He doesn’t dare make a sarcastic remark. When Chris starts to shake his head, it means he’s reached the end of his patience. A lot of guys could have spared themselves a good beating if they only knew how to read the signs.

“And I’m not done, with you,” Chris says, pointing his finger toward the screen. “But I gotta take a piss. Wait here.”

Like there’s anywhere Jensen could go. It doesn’t take much time for Steve to sit back in front of the computer.

“He is a deep fucker, isn’t he?” He asks, looking goofy and strangely sentimental.

“Are you high?”

“You were smoking a cigarette. I had a craving.”

“And… you smoke pot at seven in the morning.”

“Hey, Imma rock start. It’s in the job description.”

::: :::

It takes Jensen another whole day before he gathers the courage to call Jared. He’s half relieved, half disappointed when he goes directly to the voice mail. The first three times, he can’t bring himself to leave a message. There are so many things he wants to say that it all kind of melts into a maelstrom of words, leaving him speechless.

The fourth time, which is late in the afternoon, he succeeds in saying a weak, “Hi, it’s Jensen. Please call me back.”

It’s worse after that, because now he has to actually wait for the call. He tries to busy himself with the corrections of essays on the recurrence of the Moon in Paul Auster’s Moon Palace for the Contemporary American Literature class, but focusing is hard. His mind keeps wandering into the dark corners of his mind he’s trying so hard to ignore. _Jared hasn’t called back because he doesn’t want to speak to him. He’s done with him. Maybe he was just waiting for Jensen to end things between them because he couldn’t bring himself to do it?_

Before he goes to sleep that night, Jensen leaves another message on Jared’s voice mail. “Jared. I really need to speak with you. If you don’t want to talk to me, I need to hear it from you. Please, call me back.”

Jared doesn’t call back. Not that night or the next day. Jensen tries his number at home, sends a text message, even an email and doesn’t get anything back. It’s late Monday afternoon when he begins to think something might be wrong. It isn’t like Jared not to call back. Even if he’d been really mad at Jensen, or hurt, or just disgusted by the whole mess their relationship had become, he would still talk to him. Because Jared is like that. He practically exudes kindness. He puts the needs of others way before his own.

Jensen eats a quick supper in front of the TV, juggling the idea of calling a cab and going to Jared’s house to see for himself. He hesitates. Even though he feels better, there is the generalised seizure he had Friday night to think about. He doesn’t trust himself to go on a quest to find Jared all over York. He doesn’t want to mess with his epilepsy, not anymore. He’s already been playing with fire for way too long.

In the end, he decides to call Misha. Maybe Jared is just out of town, working, or visiting someone. Hell if Jensen knows. 

Unlike Jared, Misha answers on the first ring. Hearing his voice, Jensen immediately feels beads of sweat forming on his forehead. His heart beats fast in his chest.

“Hey, Misha,” he tries for the best casual voice he can manage.

“Jensen?” 

“Yeah.”

“What do you want?” Misha’s voice is cold and sharp.

“I’ve been trying to reach Jared for the last couple of days and I can’t seem to get a hold of him. Do you know…” Jensen can’t go on. His voice is shaking, his pulse racing.

“Jesus,” Misha sighs.

“What?”

“What is it that you want from him?”

“I need to speak with him. Is he out of town?”

“No, he’s not,” Misha answers mysteriously.

“Is it… is it because he doesn’t want to talk to me?”

“Jensen, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Just say it. If Jared doesn’t wanna have anything to do with me, I can take it.”

Which is a lie. Jensen feels close to panic, doesn’t want to hear Misha’s answer. He’s not ready for this.

“It’s not that, it’s…”

Something in Misha’s voice is unnerving Jensen, giving him an eerie sensation. The panic he feels threatening to take over him grows stronger. “Is Jared okay?” He finally asks in a thin voice.

“Fuck no, he’s not.” Misha finally says, like he’s surrendering to Jensen.

“Oh god,” Jensen mumbles, sitting clumsily on his bench.

“Whoa. Hey. You’re not going all epilepsy on me, are you Jensen?”

“What happened? Is he hurt? Is it my fault?”

“He’s not… He’s home, Jensen. He’s not… Shit. Okay. You’re at your apartment?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m coming to see you. Stay there.”

Misha hangs up and Jensen doesn’t hesitate, he goes straight for his Ativan.

::: ::: 

The sixteen minutes it takes for Misha to get to Jensen’s place are the longest ones of his life. When he sees car lights in the driveway, he almost trips over his own feet in his eagerness to open the door for Misha.

“What’s going on?” Jensen asks as soon as Misha is inside.

“Let me get my coat off,” Misha mumbles. “Can we at least sit?”

“Yeah, this way.”

Jensen practically runs to the kitchen and offers Misha a seat. Then he asks him if he’s thirsty. Then he asks what’s happening to Jared, then he starts fumbling in his cupboard to look for some tea because it seems appropriate. 

“Will you just come sit down, I’m fine,” Misha tells him. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb. “And Jared’s life isn’t in danger or anything so try to calm down, okay?”

“I need to talk to him,” Jensen says, finally sitting. He just doesn’t seem to be able to shut up anymore.

“Yeah well, after what happened with you –then Felicia Day, he’s a mess, Jensen.”

“What? What happened to Felicia Day?”

“You don’t watch the news?” Misha raises a disbelieving eyebrow.

“Why would I…?”

“You do know who she is, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Jensen murmurs, confused. “That’s the woman he’s talking care of, at the shelter? Got a little girl.”

Misha fills him in quickly, telling him how worried Jared had been and how the violent husband had been released on bail and had disappeared. Jensen is surprised by how much he doesn’t know about the matter. He remembers Jared working late because Felicia had been in trouble, and after that, he had stopped speaking of it. And then, Jensen’s status epilepticus had happened and everything had gone to Hell. 

But Misha has saved the worst for last. 

“Jared wanted to stay on the case but Felicia moved in with her sister in another town and their social services department took the matter into their own hands. After vanishing into thin air, Stewart went to Felicia’s sister’s house last Thursday. The police think he must’ve been watching her for some time because Felicia’s sister works late on Thursdays so he knew she wouldn’t be there. He punched Felicia hard enough for her to faint and took off with the little girl.”

“Jesus,” Jensen mumbles, shocked. “Are they alright?”

“Well, Felicia has a concussion, a broken nose, and a fractured cheekbone, so no, she’s not alright. Jared insisted I take him to the hospital and she’s hurt pretty bad. Will need surgery when the swelling subsides enough. But she’s gonna make it.”

“Have they found the little girl?”

“The police sent out the amber alert and Jessie’s face has been all over the news. That’s why I thought you knew.”

“I didn’t. I had no idea.”

“They only found Jessie last night, three states away. She’s fine. The motel clerk where Stewart stopped saw the girl in his car and recognised her. She was shaken pretty badly but she didn’t seem hurt. Stewart is back in jail.”

“Thank god.”

“Yeah,” Misha agrees, his blue eyes fixing on a point somewhere over Jensen’s head.

“And Jared’s upset.”

“Upset?” Misha barks out a laugh. “Well, that’s an understatement. He was freaking heartbroken when you dumped him.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you really? Well anyway, to tell the truth, he’s been a mess since you were in the hospital and Felicia’s husband disappeared. He had those nightmares about you and his brother and couldn’t get any sleep. Then, you dumped him. Then there was the kidnaping and he just… broke down. Like it was his fault somehow. He does that sometimes. Jared. He’s that funny guy who’s always happy, never has any problems, always ready to help until-“

“Wait a minute,” Jensen cuts him off, frowning, trying to keep up with the flow of information. “You said he had nightmares about his brother?”

“Wait, did I say that?” Misha blushes suddenly, then shakes his head and mumbles something about his big, fat, giant mouth.

“Jared doesn’t have any siblings. He told me.”

“No. He does. You know, he would’ve told you, eventually. It’s just… it’s so hard for him to talk about Jeff. I knew the guy for two years before he told me, and only then because he can’t hold his liquor.”

“What are you talking about?” Jensen asks, and his voice seems alien even to him.

“Jeffrey was Jared’s brother. He died of a brain tumor when he was nine. Jared was six at the time.”

“God.”

 

“From what I know, he wasn’t supposed to die that soon, was in the process of having chemo treatments and stuff, but his tumor caused an aneurism and it was a matter of seconds. Jared’s the one who found him.”

“Oh. Fuck. God.”

Jensen feels cold and hot, palms clammy and cheeks burning red. He shivers, tries to get himself back together. How much does he know about Jared? Has anything ever been about anyone other than Jensen since the beginning of their relationship? Had Jared been waiting for the right moment to open himself up to him or had Jensen just not been listening. so trapped in his own misery that he never even wondered how Jared was doing.

 _I did_ , he thinks. _I did, but I worried about him being worried about me. I never stopped to ask myself if there could be anything else._

“With what happened to you,” Misha goes on, his voice softer than a few minutes earlier, “it brought back some stuff Jared usually keeps burried so deep he sometimes doesn’t even remember it’s there.” 

“I didn’t know any of this,” Jensen rasps. “I only thought he was worried about me and I couldn’t keep doing that to him and…”

“I know you didn’t know. Jared always seems to think his problems aren’t important compared to everybody else’s. He’s so busy trying to make everyone happy, to give them what they need, that he forgets about himself.”

“I was a mess, Misha. I don’t even think I could have been there for him; really there, I mean.”

“Come on. You were pretty sick. Don’t play Jared’s game and try to blame yourself for everything. But you gotta know, Jensen, he’s had a serious breakdown. I stayed with him as much as I could, but then he started worrying me and I called his mom. I mean, even tonight, after we got the news that Jessie had been found, it’s like it didn’t made any difference. He’s fallen hard. I saw it coming and I couldn’t stop it. His parents arrived this morning.”

“I need to see him.”

“Listen…” Misha hesitates, fidgeting with his fingers on the countertop. “He has people with him to comfort him and he’s not ready to have you as a friend. I don’t think you should go unless you’ve had second thoughts about the break up.”

“I love him, you know. It never was about what I felt for him.”

“Still, what do you want from him, Jensen? Because there is not a lot Jared can give right now.”

“I wanna tell him that I’ve been an idiot and that I never should’ve pushed him away. Fuck, it hurts just being away from him and I can’t stand the thought of him being hurt and I just want us to pick things up from where we left off.”

“Don’t keep doing this to him,” Misha murmurs. “I mean, I know your life sucks and your health issues are serious, but Jared doesn’t do well with people trying to push him away. He’ll always come back and try to make things work and, if you keep this up, you’re gonna burn him.”

“I won’t. Can you give me a ride?”

Misha nods and smiles a little. “Yeah.”

::: :::

Jensen’s eagerness to see Jared is overshadowed by his nervousness at the thought of meeting his parents. He wonders what they know about him, what Jared has told them. If he’d come home to find his son’s heart broken by some dude he’d never met, he probably wouldn’t be very enthusiastic to meet him.

“You alright?” Misha asks when Jensen doesn’t show any sign of wanting to get out of the car.

“Yeah, ‘m…”

“Jared’s parents are really nice,” the older man says, because apparently he can read Jensen’s mind. 

“Okay, let’s do this,” Jensen murmurs, opening the door. “Thanks, Misha.”

“Yeah, don’t make me regret this. Jared’s my friend. Don’t want you to hurt him anymore. And now if you’ll excuse me, I have some kitchen chairs to build.”

Jared’s mom opens the door. She does look nice, something in her soft features reminding him of Jared. She looks at Jensen for a couple of seconds, then smiles. “Jensen, am I right? I’m Sherry, Jared’s mom. Come in, you’ll freeze out there.”

Jensen tries to smile in return, but doesn’t quite succeed. As he’s invited into the kitchen, he looks around in surprise. The house is a mess. Last time he’d been here, everything had been so neat it was as if nobody actually lived there. 

“I came to see Jared,” he feels it necessary to add.

“Yeah, I guessed that. He’s in his room, sleeping. My apologies for the mess. Jared had a tough time and he kind of neglected the house a little. Jerry and I just got back from Florida and I haven’t had time to finish cleaning it up yet.”

“It’s okay.”

“I was making some tea, do you want some?” Sherry asks, already taking a second cup out of the cupboard.

He accepts the tea, shivering in his wool sweater and bracing himself. Sherry babbles about her husband being out to get some groceries and how she’d forgotten how cold it was here until she’d stepped out of the plane. She gives Jensen his mug before sitting in front of him, playing with the collar of her blouse.

“So, Misha told me you’ve been pretty sick lately. How are you now?”

“I’m good. I’m…”

“Epilepsy, right? Jared talked a lot about you but he never mentioned it. He didn’t mention how hard things have been at his job or anything else that could have given me a clue as to how he was doing either.”

“Oh.”

“Well,” Sherry shrugs. “That’s Jared, you know. Everything is always fine until he falls apart. He was drunk when we got here. At six in the morning.”

She has the expression of a mother who has caught her toddler doing something stupid, but can’t bring herself to be upset with him. Jensen doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know what she wants to hear from him, but apparently, Jared’s tendency to fill the silence is a trait he’d inherited from his mom because Sherry goes on talking. “It’s so horrible what happened to that woman and her little girl, isn’t it? I understand that Jared must have been devastated. His heart is way too big for his own good. His brother died when he was so young. I never could tell if Jared’s always been this way or if Jeff’s death did it to him.”

“I’m sorry for the loss of your son,” Jensen looks away when he sees Sherry Padalecki’s eyes shining brightly.

“Gosh, I’m sorry. Didn’t sleep a lot in the last twenty-four hours. I shouldn’t ramble like that.”

“No, it’s okay. I… just wanted you to know, Jared’s been great to me. I’m a pain in the ass, very difficult to get along with, and he’s had to deal with my epilepsy and everything. He was struggling and I should’ve been there to help him but I didn’t know…”

“Neither did I. Jared’s good at not letting anyone know what’s bothering him.”

“Yeah, well, I should’ve…”

Jensen realises how overwhelmed and emotional he is about this whole conversation. Seeing Sherry’s love and concern for her son written all over her face and in the nervous movements of her hands, hearing it in each and every word she says, brings him brutally back to his own mother’s love for him. 

Not pity. Love.

“I’ve come to fix what I’ve broken but I’m not sure,” he rasps, swallowing hard because damn, he’s not going to cry in front of Jared’s mother the first time he meets her. “I _want_ to fix things, just not sure if I’m the right guy, or you know, if I’m what Jared needs. I’m…”

“Well I can’t answer that for you, sweetie. But I think you should go see him,” Sherry smiles Jared’s contagious smile and Jensen snorts, some kind of cross between a laugh and a sob.

“Okay.”

Jared’s door is closed. Jensen knocks softly and doesn’t get any answer. His palm is sweating when he turns the knob, like some kind of revelation is waiting for him on the other side, like he’s freaking Indiana Jones reaching for the golden statuette.

He doesn’t see a lot, at first. The curtains are draws. There is a persistent smell of sweat that invades his nostrils as his eyes get used to the semi-darkness. He tip-toes around a pile of dirty clothes and other things that are scrambled on the floor and kneels next to the bed, murmuring Jared’s name. There’s no movement under the covers and only a couple of strands of hair are sticking out.

“Jare? You awake?” Jensen murmurs again, dragging the comforter down to look at his boyfriend’s face.

Jared mumbles something, but doesn’t stir. Jensen takes a deep breath, trying to get his heart to slowdown as he takes in the sight of Jared’s tense, pale features. Jensen has never seen so much sadness written on a sleeping face. Jared has a week-old beard and his hair is sticking to his head in greasy strands. He stinks of alcohol and sweat. Under the covers, his long body is tucked into the smallest ball he could probably manage, both of his hands tucked under his body. He looks vulnerable and lost like a kid trapped in a giant’s body.

“Hey, baby, wake up,” Jensen coos softly, sliding one hand over Jared’s sweaty forehead to get the hair out of his face.

Just the thought that he’s on some level responsible for Jared’s pain is intolerable to him and Jensen feels his chest expand, like all his emotions are trying to burst out of him.

Not pity, love, he thinks. 

“Jared,” he says more forcefully.

The younger man shifts and groans again, then he blinks slowly, like he’s stuck in slow-motion. The glassy, confused look he gives Jensen breaks his heart.

“Jen?” Jared slurs, untangling himself from the sheets with clumsy movements. “What you doin’ here?”

“Want you to come home with me, okay?” Jensen asks as softly as he can.

Jared’s eyes widen, then he nods.

Good, Jensen thinks. Good.

::: :::

It doesn’t exactly go smoothly after that. Jerry Padalecki offers to drive them back to Jensen’s place, doesn’t want Jared to drive in the state he’s in. The man is outwardly cold and distrustful of Jensen, but he doesn’t take it personally, knowing he’s the guy who just broke his son’s heart. Sherry insists on giving them almost half the groceries her husband has just bought, like they’re going camping or something. While his wife packs the food, Jerry observes Jensen openly, arms crossed over his chest. “So, you don’t have a driver’s licence, Jensen?” He finally asks, as if he’s been waiting to find the right question to give himself a measure of control.

“No, I can’t drive because of my epilepsy.”

“Uh-huh,” Jerry lets out, nodding slowly, although disbelieve is written all over his face, like Jensen has just said something completely insane.

All the while, Jared just sits at the kitchen table and waits, strangely passive, his head resting heavily on the palm of his hand.

The ride back to his place is silent. Jensen sits in the back with Jared, as close to him as he can get, giving directions to Jerry Padalecki who acknowledges them with a series of “uh-huh’s” and keeps looking at him in the rear view mirror. It would almost be funny if Jared wasn’t so completely out of it, letting Jensen hold his hand, but not initiating any additional contact with him.

Then, finally, they’re home. When Jensen’s about to exit the car, Jared’s father turns toward him. “You boys take care,” he says, although it’s clear that what he means is, you take good care of my son. 

Jensen has every intention of doing just that.

Jared goes to sit in the living room as soon as he has pulled off his boots and jacket, like he’s too tired to stay upright, which is a situation Jensen knows all too well. They have exchanged only a few words since Jensen had woken him up, but he’s in no hurry, determined to make things right. Jared is in no state to make any kind of conversation right now.

Jensen crouches in front of him. “I’ll draw you a bath, what do you say?”

Jared blinks and looks all around him, like he’s just realised where he is. “Right, I stink,” he mumbles, trying for a smile, but failing miserably. “You don’t have to. I can…”

“You can barely stay upright. Wait here.”

It’s so intimate, helping Jared undress, sitting on the floor next to him as he cautiously sinks into the hot water. It’s different than when they’re naked together in a mess of tangled limbs and physical desire. Jensen wonders if this is how Jared feels when he has to take care of him, like he’s walking on thin ice and one false step could shatter them both. The impression he has that he’s getting his first glimpse of Jared stripped of all his defenses is so intense it makes him dizzy. Nakedness of soul and body, and it’s in between Jensen’s hands, like some kind of impossible puzzle he has to put back together..

It’s terrifying and intoxicating at the same time.

Jensen takes a washcloth and puts some soap on it, then starts to wash Jared’s chest, startling him just as he’d been about to drift off. Looking at him sleepily, Jared blushes. “You don’t-“ he murmurs.

“I want to. Let me do this.” 

Jensen works slowly, dragging the washcloth over Jared’s body. He hears a sigh of contentment escape his lips and smiles to himself, eager to get more –it’s not sexual, not for now anyway.

When he’s done, Jensen grabs the hand-shower head and folds the washcloth before he delicately covers Jared’s eyes with it. Jared’s hand rises automatically to take it off, but Jensen grabs it. “M’gonna wash your hair, okay?”

“Fuck, Jensen, what are we doing?” Jared rasps, but stays still. 

“You relax while I take care of your girly hair,” Jensen says, even though he knows that’s not what Jared means.

He turns on the water and washes his boyfriend’s hair, careful and cautious, taking his time to massage his scalp while Jared’s breathing slows down and gets deeper. His hands move slowly through the water, just like when fighting the wind through a car’s open window. When Jensen is finally done and takes the washcloth off, Jared blinks lazily at him, then smiles. It’s a very small discreet smile, hidden in Jared’s soft brown beard, but Jensen takes it nevertheless. He bends toward him and kisses the corner of his mouth. “I love you. So fucking much,” he says, keeping his face close so that he can look directly into Jared’s eyes.

“Don’t mess with me,” Jared replies without any anger or spite. Just brutal honesty.

“I’m not.”

“I don’t know what Misha told you, but I can deal, Jensen. I can… You don’t have to take care of me, you don’t have to take me back. I can take care of myself.”

“I was the one who called Misha in the first place, Jared. I tried to call you, but I couldn’t reach you.”

“I got one of your messages. Just… I thought maybe you wanted me to come and get the stuff I’d left here or… I had a rough week and I just couldn’t.” Jared lowers his eyes, but Jensen grabs his face between his hands, determined to get through this, this conversation, the mess they’ve made of their lives. “You’ve had a rough month, Jared. You’ve had a horrible month. I know. You can’t sleep, you’re struggling at work. What happened to Felicia and her daughter must have hit you so hard. And I wasn’t there for you. Never have been. You gotta let me in now. You understand me?”

“None of this is your fault,” Jared protests, still avoiding Jensen’s gaze.

“That’s where you’re wrong. Come on, let’s get you out of the tub. We’ll eat something and then go to bed.”

Jensen heats some chicken broth from one of Sherry’s bags and they drink it in mugs, sitting at the counter. Jared still has this dull expression in his eyes. Now that his hair, still wet, is pushed away from his face, Jensen can see how pale he is under the kitchen light, how sunken his eyes are. 

Jared doesn’t drink much of his broth, but he starts talking, asking Jensen about how he’s been, how things are going with the nursing agency, and has he gone back to work? When Jensen realises they’re falling into the same old pattern again, with him being the principal subject of the conversation, he stops talking mid-sentence and shakes his head.

“No wait. This is… not how it’s supposed to go.”

“What?”

“I’m supposed to…”

Fix things. Get you to talk to me, tell you how important you are to me. I can’t do this, Jared. I don’t know how. I’m not good enough, I’m…

 _Shut up, damn it!_ Christian’s voice cuts his thoughts short. _You see? What you do? Still worrying about your own inadequacy and it always comes back to you. Just forget about yourself for a moment, Jensen, forget about this Jensen-bashing thing you seem to like so much._

“Let’s go to bed,” Jensen says firmly, taking the two mugs to the sink.

Jared frowns but obeys quietly. It’s awkward, sliding under the covers, like they’re both strangers forced to share a bed for the first time. Jared is tense and immobile, lying on his back as far as he can from Jensen and looking straight at the ceiling.

“Ready to turn off the light?”

Jared shrugs. Jensen takes his time, trying to get his thoughts together. He still has one finger on the nightstand button when Jared startles him.

“What do you want from me, Jensen?”

He turns his head and sees a tear slowly making its way from the corner of Jared’s eye to disappear into his ear. Anxiety takes hold of Jensen’s heart and squeezes hard. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and turns off the light.

_You can do this._

“I want us to pick up where we left off. I’m sorry for hurting you, Jared. I was wrong.”

“Well, you know how I feel about you,” Jared murmurs in an almost inaudible voice.

Jensen slowly turns on his side to look at Jared under the dim moonlight. He trails a finger from his forehead, traces the shape of his nose, then his lips. “Love you. I mean it, Jared. Never felt this for anybody before.”

“Fuck, I love you too,” Jared rasps, holding back tears. “Everything is just so fucked up… Everything . And I thought, I thought I had it under control and-“

“I know that.” Jensen gets closer to Jared and rises on his elbow, holding his head in the palm of his hand. “But that’s not how things work, Jare. Trust me when I tell you, you can’t control everything. Damn it, sometimes it feels like you can’t control anything at all. And huh… you should have talked to me, told me what was happening to you. I’m not sure I would’ve been much help, but I would’ve been there. It works both ways, you know. You tricked me into opening up to you, way sooner than I usually do. You’re good at it. You’re a freaking master.”

“Jensen, I don’t know what you think is your fault in all this, but you don’t have to feel responsible. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“No. I did. I dumped you for no reason. Because I was scared.”

Jared turns his head then, and mirrors Jensen’s position. “I didn’t tell you what was bothering me. How could you have known? You’ve been so sick and-“

“Yeah, yeah. Been there, done that,” Jensen cuts him off. “I’m always going to have to live with this fucking disease, Jared. It’s not something that can be cured. You can’t protect me from it or from everything else. If we’re going to do this, you gotta be honest with me. If you’re always scared to talk to me because I just had a seizure or I might have one, we won’t go anywhere. We’re supposed to be there for each other and that’s what I want to be for you.”

“I… Fuck, I’ve been so scared of losing you, ever since that day,” Jared sobs, looking so lost and exhausted Jensen has to fight his own tears. “I can’t get it out of my head, the way you were when I found you. And then there’s J-… I have nightmares, can’t sleep and it always comes back to this, to me finding you and you’re dead and I can’t do anything.”

Jared bursts into tears, then takes Jensen into his shaking arms and holds him tight, burying his head in the crook of his neck and letting everything out. Jensen’s instinctive reaction is one of uneasiness and anger toward himself, for being responsible for Jared’s sorrow, him and the fucking beast that lives inside him. 

He fights it. Concentrate on Christian’s words. _You have no reason to be ashamed of something you can’t control._

Yes, it’s simple enough, isn’t it? But he still can’t reach this idea and make it his own. Can’t act like the last nine years of his life can be forgotten or lived differently. What’s done is done.

He has no control over it.

No control.

Never has. Never will.

_Why don’t you just let go, then? Why can’t you just let go, Jensen?_

“I’ve been s-s-scared too,” he stutters, feeling something break inside of him, making him shiver violently. “I don’t want to die. I just… I j-j-just wanna have a little bit of a normal life. With you.”

Jensen lets go, the sobs rising in his throat and bursting out of him. He holds onto Jared for dear life and lets go of everything. 

And that’s how they fall asleep, tears and sweat mixing together, clinging to each other because they can. 

Because loneliness is the worst beast of them all. 

There’s so much more to talk about, so many things to work out so they can have a real chance together. Jensen had heard the hesitation in Jared’s words, the almost-but-not-quite there mention of his brother. But right now, this is enough. Right now, it’s all they can do. After all, their life together has just begun.


	14. The Man who Sold the World

July 30 is Jared’s 25th birthday. He wakes up to the smell of pastries cooking and follows it to the kitchen. There is flour everywhere, even in Jensen’s mussed up hair, and he kisses him before attacking the cinnamon buns made just for him. It’s going to be a rainy day. Thunder is already rumbling from far away and a cool breeze is coming from the open window. It feels good after a whole week of hot, humid temperatures.

“Happy birthday,” Jensen mumbles, raising an eyebrow as Jared tries his best to inhale his cinnamon bun in one big mouthful. “I take it you like your birthday breakfast.”

“Awshome,” Jared says around the dough. He swallows and takes the coffee cup Jensen hands him before he settles down at the counter. 

Jensen sits in front of him and puts a small wrapped box between them.

“I get to have my present already?”

“Yeah, go on.”

As excited as a little kid, Jared unwraps the box in a matter of seconds and opens it, only to find what looks like a small nasal decongestant spray bottle. “What… Huh… Thanks?”

“It’s terrific, isn’t it?” Jensen smiles mischievously. 

“Yeah it’s…” Jared takes the bottle in his hand and sees it’s a prescription drug with Jensen’s name written on it. He tries to read the small characters. “Midazolam.”

“Stop looking so stunned!” Jensen laughs and takes the bottle in his hands. “It’s Versed, used to treat acute seizures.”

“Okay…”

“Last appointment with my doc, we decided to try this instead of the intra-rectal valium, you know, since last time…”

Jared shivers despite himself. Last time had been two weeks ago. Jensen had had a general seizure serious enough for Jared to use the valium. Even then, it had taken three minutes after he’d administered the drug for the seizure to stop. The ambulance had been on the way. It could’ve been worse, Jared knows. Since Jensen’s status epilepticus back in November, his neurologist has decided that waiting five minutes is too dangerous for him, and the valium has to be given after only two minutes of seizure. Jared has administered it three times in the last seven months.

“So, this could work better?”

“Maybe. And you won’t have to shove anything up my ass anymore –at least, nothing I don’t want to be shoved up there- because this goes through the nose.”

“Wow, you’re such a romantic. Best birthday present ever.”

“It’s not really your birthday present, you dork.”

“No?” Jared winks at him. “Are we talking about a birthday blow-job?”

Jensen leans in and kisses him quickly on the mouth. “Well, there’s that, but I have another surprise for you. I’m taking you out tonight.”

“Oh? Where?”

“You’ll see.”

“But you’re telling me this now and I have to wait the whole day? How am I supposed to do that?”

“You’ll manage.”

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“I do.”

Jared grabs another cinnamon bun and hums around a mouthful. It’s going to be a great day. He can feel it.

::: :::

Less than an hour later, Jensen is undressed and lying over the covers of their bed, his cock already hard and curving up toward his stomach. Jared is lying on his side, propped up on an elbow and playing lazily with Jensen’s nipples while peppering his face with kisses. Jensen grunts and weakly tries to push him away.

“This is.. hun… not how it’s supposed to go. It’s your birthday, remember?”

Jared shuts him up with a kiss and drags his fingers down Jensen’s stomach until he’s brushing them over his dick, which gives a hopeful twitch. He wraps his hand around the shaft.

“Wanna make you come first,” Jared pleads his cause with a good stroke from root to tip. “You know how I like to see you losing it. It’s my birthday, I can do whatever I want.”

“You won’t hear me complaining,”

Jared plays with Jensen as long as he can until his boyfriend is a moaning, shivering mess. His legs are parted as far as he can get them and his feet are planted firmly on the mattress while Jared is fingering him slowly. He now has three fingers scissoring and stroking Jensen’s insides, brushing against his prostate without really stroking it. His own dick is hard and leaking, balls drawn up, ready to burst as he looks at Jensen’s red face, his mouth parted on constant moans and his eyes squeezed shut, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

“God, I can’t… Need to come, wanna come Jared, please,” he rasps, moving his hips to fuck himself deeper on Jared’s fingers.

His hands are gripping the bed posts like Jared had asked him to a few minutes earlier. He’s visibly struggling to leave them there but he doesn’t let go. Jared is stroking his cock with light, soft strokes that aren’t quite enough to make him come. 

“Sure you don’t want me to play some more?“

Jensen raises his head, managing to look seriously pissed and blissed out at the same time. “Sure you don’t want me to kill you?”

“Okay, baby. Let me see how you come so pretty for me,” 

“We’re not in a porn movie, you do realise that?”

“Hey, you taught me all I know about dirty talk.” Jared smiles and tightens his grip on Jensen’s cock, starting a quick rhythm.

“Damn,” Jensen groans, his head falling back on the pillow. “That’s it. Yeah… Fuck, Jared. Ah… yeah, won’t last long.”

Jared never turns his eyes away from Jensen’s face as he goes on, jerking him off and aiming straight for the prostate with his other hand, following the same rhythm. He sees the redness of his boyfriend’s cheeks getting darker, the beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Jensen’s lips are tightening into this round shape, like they do every time. And that’s it. The moans and curses shift to high-pitched rhythmic little “oh’s” that Jared loves. They get louder and louder until Jensen’s hips start moving erratically. Then all the muscles of his body tense, his back arches and he warns with a chocked off, “I’m c-coming…” before he starts shaking, long thick spurts of semen erupting from his cock.

The sight of it all, the feeling of Jensen’s inner muscles clenching so tightly around his fingers, is too much to take. Jared feels his own orgasm rising way too soon, deep down in his belly. He barely has the time to give himself one clumsy stroke before he comes with a surprised hoarse cry, body shaking so hard he collapses on Jensen’s thighs, head tucked in the small dip of his hipbone. 

“God,” he whispers, the smell of their combined release assailing his nostrils and his over-sensitive dick trying its best not to go soft.

“Hey! “ Jensen protests, rising on his elbows. “What about the blow-job?”

“We have all day,” Jared mumbles against his skin.

Jensen grins. They do have all day.

::: :::

“You know, it’s kind of lame, you having to drive to your own birthday surprise.”

“Naw… Just tell me where to go. Fancy restaurant? Oh! That little place with the ribs that-“

“The Cabin.”

“The Cabin? The bar?”

“Yeah.”

Jared grins and starts the car. “Look at you, going all romantic on my ass. That’s where we had our first date.”

“It is.”

“Six in the evening is a little early for hanging out in a bar.”

“I know, right?”

Jensen’s smile is mischievous, his eyes are crinkling behind his glasses, but there’s something more. He’s been nervous and fidgety for the better part of the afternoon, enough for Jared to keep a close eye on him, looking for any early signs that he might go into seizure, but he looks like he’s holding his own. 

It takes them more than fifteen minutes to drive to The Cabin because of the downpour. Rain is falling hard, wind is buffeting the car and thunder is still rumbling far off in the distance. 

“Hope we don’t have a power outage,” Jensen murmurs as Jared finds a parking spot near The Cabin’s entrance.

“Why?”

“Because that would suck, don’t you think?”

“Okay.” Jared turns off the engine. “I’m ready for my surprise.”

“Yeah. Let’s just hope it turns out alright.” Jensen blushes over his lightly tanned skin. They’d spend the second week of July in Richardson and Jensen’s freckles had blossomed all over his nose and cheeks. Jared leans toward him and kisses the tip of his nose.

“You’re such a dork,” Jensen mumbles. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Jared doesn’t have the faintest idea of what’s waiting for him. Probably a couple tables joined at the back of the bar, a few of his friends and maybe his family. That’s more than enough. Jensen’s right here with him, isn’t he?

What Jared finds instead is a bar packed full of people he knows. There must be at least thirty familiar faces, all of them standing and waiting for him. There is whistling and cheering, deafening applause. Jared stands there, mouth wide open, while Jensen starts applauding as well, smiling so widely that his eyes are reduced to green slits.

“What did you do? Reserve the whole bar?”

“As a matter of fact, I did,” Jensen answers. “Hey, it’s a Monday. The bar wouldn’t have had much more than a couple of customers anyway. They owners were thrilled.”

“You’re awesome. Love you,” Jared practically has to scream to be heard over the noise, dragging Jensen toward him and kissing him hard on the mouth, setting off a new bout of clapping and cheering.

Jensen, who isn’t much into pda, blushes until his skin feels hot against Jared’s mouth and softly pushes him back, clapping him on the shoulders. “Come on, birthday boy. They’re all waiting for you.”

And it’s true. Jared makes his way through the small crowd, trying to say hi to everyone. There are Misha and Victoria, heavily pregnant and looking so beautiful. She’s two weeks away from her due date. She and Misha had refused to find out the baby’s gender and there is a pool going on at the Café. Jared has bet on a girl. He suspects Jensen to have picked a boy just so he can rub it in his face, in case he is right.

There are Mark and Gen and most of his coworkers from the community center. Mark has an arm over Genevieve’s shoulders, but Jared doesn’t have the time to analyse what he’s seeing because it’s his mother’s turn to take him in her arms, eyes shining bright as she wishes him a happy birthday. His father gives him a manly clap on the shoulder, then Jared is dragged along farther amongst some of the café’s employees and god… Is that Chad? Smiling almost shyly is a little boy who can’t be more than two years old, holding his hand tight and looking around with wide eyes.

“Can’t believe it!” Jared thinks he might sprain a muscle if he keeps smiling this wide. He hasn’t seen his old friend for more than three years. And there’s a pretty brunette standing beside him who can be none other than the boy’s mother. “God, you owe me some fucking explanation,” Jared tells him and Chad winks at him. They’ll have to talk. Later. 

Because there is one last group standing a little apart from the others. Women from the Shelter. Some of whom he’d helped to pick up their shattered lives. There are five of them, and in the middle stands Felicia holding Jessie in her arms. Jared has kept in close contact with her since Stewart’s trial. Her ex-husband is going to spend the next eight years in jail. Felicia has moved on since then. She is back in her house and has gone on with her life. Very little trace of the brutal attack she’d sustained from her ex-husband is left on her face, just a light bump on the bridge of her nose and an almost indiscernible asymmetry between her two cheekbones. 

“Look I have a dwess!” Jessie tells him, wriggling in her mother’s arms. “And mommy bought you a big, big, book!”

“Jessie, you’re not supposed to tell,” Felicia protests, cheeks getting as red as her hair.

“You’re the prettiest girl in the bar,” Jared tells Jessie, kissing her on the cheek. The little girl grimaces and rubs at her skin vigorously.

Somehow, Jared finds himself sitting at one end of the table with Jensen, Misha, Vic and his parents by his side. There are large plates of nachos on the table, he has a beer in front of him and is trying his best to speak with everybody while stuffing his mouth full. 

“So?” Jensen asks. “Is this alright?”

“You did all this, Jensen? I can’t believe it. I never suspect…”

“Misha and your mom helped.”

“I’m never gonna let you go, you know that?”

Jensen smiles but there is something serious and thoughtful in his bright eyes, something that tells Jared he has every intention of holding on to him as well. 

Then the lights on the small stage go up.

“There’s the rest of my surprise,” Jensen tells him as two men climb on the stage.

Chris and Steve. Jared hasn’t seen them since that night back in November when a drunken Christian had knocked on Jensen’s door, but he’d never forgotten them. He shakes his head in disbelief as the guys settle on the stage with their guitars strapped on.

“Whoa, Jensen, really?”

“Meh. They were the only band available,” Jensen jokes, “but they promised to drop their country act for the night and do those folks songs you like so much.”

Then, Christian takes control of the stage, the mic in his hands, roaring at the small crowd as if there are a thousand of them and starting with a hard core version of Happy Birthday. Jensen rolls his eyes, but he’s happy, Jared can tell.

He leans back and listens to the show.

At some point during the evening, he’s on his third beer and he’s not drunk, but he’s feeling relaxed and at ease. People shift around him, picking up conversations, giving him gifts. In front of the joined table, Jessie and Chad’s kid are dancing like an old couple. Not too far from him, his mother is giving Victoria some tips on how to induce labor. And Jared realises Jensen isn’t by his side anymore. Vaguely worried, he looks all around without seeing him. He stands up. It’s been a long day for Jensen. Lots of stress. He doesn’t like it when he doesn’t know where he is.

Things have changed for them since Jensen’s grand mal seizure in December. The new med he’s been taking has improved things, much to his boyfriend’s surprise. There are practically no absences anymore, and the partial seizures tend to happen less often and to be shorter. His neurologist has increased the dosage of the new drug and may decide to lower the amount of the two other meds he takes. Despite all this, one thing that hasn’t changed is the generalised seizures. But it’s the best they can do right now, and as Jensen says, “I’ll take what I can get.”

Jared is making his way through the chairs and the small groups of people chatting together when he feels someone grab his arm. It’s Misha.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing. S’just… I can’t find Jensen.”

“He’s okay, Jare. Saw him walking toward the men’s room a couple of minutes ago.”

“Oh. Okay. Maybe I should go and-“

Misha’s eyes widen almost comically. “Huh… I’ll do it. I mean it’s your birthday. Sit and enjoy the show.”

Jared doesn’t even have time to answer before Misha’s gone, so he slowly walks back to his place, still feeling funny about the whole thing. Then, his mother asks him to sit beside her while she tells Victoria all about Jared’s birth with graphic details he would have preferred not to know.

The song Steve and Christian were playing is over and the silence holds a strange anticipation. Conversations are dying slowly and there are whispers starting at all the tables. Jared wonders what he’s missed when looks at the stage and sees Jensen climbing up to join his friends, his acoustic guitar strapped across his chest.

“What the-“ Jared murmurs, heart picking up because this, this… He’s heard Jensen play a couple of times, but his musical past is something Jensen doesn’t like to talk about much, maybe because he still misses it, Jared thinks. 

Jensen sits in front of a mic and gets his guitar in place. He clears his throat and smiles uneasily.

“Okay, so huh… This is my present for you, Jared. I… I haven’t done this in a long time so if this goes horribly wrong, I apologise. And I also want to apologise for the total sap I’m about to be.”

Jensen is blushing. Jared can see it, even from this distance. There is some snorting and laughter amongst the tables. Jared just waits, his heart beating fast in his chest.

“Jared, I know I’m a pain in the ass and…”

Beside Jensen, Chris raises two thumbs, smiling at Jared. There is some more laughter and Jensen turns his head toward Chris , shaking it slightly. “Shup up, man.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Chris articulates.

It’s good, seeing the two of them so in tune with each other. Apparently, back in December when Jared had been so lost and everything had seemed dark, Jensen had turned to Chris for advice. They’ve been in touch with each other ever since. It had been a gradual thing: a phone call or a meeting on Skype once or twice a week, eventually graduating to the point where there is rarely a day when they don’t communicate in one way or another. There had been some fights in the beginning, hangs up, frustrated conversations and e-mails full of swear words, but eventually, they had found their way back to each other, and their renewed friendship had brought an additional spark to Jensen’s bright eyes.

“Okay, so what was I saying?” Jensen scratches the back of his head and clears his throat. “Jared is the nicest guy in the world, I think everybody will agree with me…”

People start applauding enthusiastically and Jared, who’s already red and sweating because that’s his normal state whenever it’s hotter than seventy degrees –blushes so suddenly that the tip of his ears burn. He doesn’t deserve all of this. He only tries to-

 _No, it works both ways, you know that._ Jensen’s voice is perfectly clear in his head. He has repeated this so many times. _I hold up my end of the deal, now you have to do your part. You have to realise that you’re worth something. That you do make a difference. You’re generous and kind and you give so much of yourself to the people around you… I’m just lucky there is some left for me._

Jared smiles and shrugs. Learning to let go isn’t an easy thing to do.

“… so happy he puts up with me. Plus, he’s hot, ya’ know?”

Jensen winks. Some people laugh, some others whistle. 

“Things were hard after we met because of… stuff, you know? We were struggling and trying to get to know each other and everything almost went to Hell at one point and huh… I guess we needed to work on ourselves a little. Anyway, I thought of the perfect song to sing to you, Jared, but Bowie doesn’t do many of those sappy love songs you would’ve liked so much. But there is this song called The Man who Sold the World and some of you will probably think: Hey! That’s a Nirvana song, but of course no. It’s one of David Bowie’s early songs and huh…”

“Geek,” Steve yells enthusiastically.

“Okay yeah,” Jensen cocks his head to the side and scratches his nose. “I’m a geek, that’s true. Anyway, this song is about control, the fear of losing it, the fear of losing ourselves and the beast inside every one of us. And I think Jared and I can both relate. So, t’s’for you, Jared.”

Steve starts to play this strange percussion instrument that’s shaped like a fish and then Chris starts in with the first guitar riff and Jensen joins them with the second guitar, his fingers running over his instrument, his feet tapping the rhythm. He starts signing, voice low and a little hoarse, but rising nicely to become as soft as a caress. In this moment, Jared knows the man in front of him is complete. Happy, almost febrile. This is where he really belongs, on a stage, singing, playing.

It could be a sad thought, knowing that Jensen won’t really get to have this the way he used to, that life happened and killed this dream forever. Jared isn’t sad, though, because he gets to have Jensen every day, because he could’ve lost him, and Jensen knows it too. He’s learning to let go too and to take what is given to him. It’s unfair, of course it is. But happiness can grow in other ways, there are other dreams to follow, other paths to discover, with whatever life has decided to give us.

“Who knows?” Jensen sings, “Not me/I’ve never lost control…”

And he smiles playfully at Jared, rolling his eyes.

Fin


End file.
